channeling my inner wallaby, perhaps. in any case, my ankles are profoundly unhappy about the week they’ve had (and by “week,” i mean “a period of seven days”). ice is on the menu, as well as some of those physical therapy exercises i was too proud/in denial/obstinate to do back when they were actually damaged.
because even a month ago, i would’ve been over the moon to know that a horse awaited my arrival out at the barn. it doesn’t matter how difficult, headstrong, disrespectful, and prone to bolting that horse might be. she’s there, and i should be, too.
