I have a real post sitting half written in my draft folder. Coming at you sometime in the next seven days, I promise. Until then, you'll have to live with this little story from today. Because I have to eat my dinner and leave the house within the next ten minutes to get to a pre-natal class where they're going to traumatize me about breastfeeding, just like they traumatized me about medical interventions last week.
My co-worker and I are sitting at my desk today, frantically stuffing envelopes for a mailout that needs to happen first thing tomorrow morning. Thrilling, I know. She casually asks me how my feet are feeling. I say fine, thank you, and yours?
She says hers are fine, mine just look swollen so she thought she'd ask.
I look at my feet. They're a little warm looking, but they don't look particularly puffy, pudgy or engorged. They just look like my feet but red.
My co-worker thinks I have fat feet.
I'll be wearing winter boots to work tomorrow.