It was pointed out to me very recently that, for certain things, I really do have a good memory. Like I really did have, in my head, almost every single Magic the Gathering card for all the sets before and including the Tempest block.

So perhaps if I don’t remember something, this may be a function of subconsciously choosing not to remember. Like, more so than I thought.

Anyways. Getting to the point.

A long time ago, my father did something to my left foot. I don’t remember what. But there’s probably a reason why I tend to favor, at least a little, my right leg; and why my socks fit a bit oddly—my left leg is thinner and less muscular than my right leg.

Right now, after cooking for four hours, my left foot hurts like a MF. I’m off my feet now, and blogging propped up in bed. All week, maybe the last month, my left foot has been very painful. This morning, strangley, it was quite fine and I could walk on it without pain—but that all changed about 30 minutes ago.

I’ve thought, actually thought, about going to my doctor and asking if I need a cane. But I’m not that old. And it doesn’t happen in warm weather.

Oh well. All these little mementos of my father. I wish they weren’t there.