Today, dearest blog readers, I went to a wonderful little town with preserved samurai houses and a cherry blossom festival and a neat cemetery. I had a lovely time, for most of it, despite the intermittent rain and freezing-cold wind and the husband who was in culture and language-shock the entire time.
And then, I fell in a ditch.
A deep ditch. A painful ditch. A ditch I totally didn't see at all because I define the word "oblivious".
And I managed to injure my other ankle.
I'm going to go to bed now and try to convince myself that it's really just another sprain, and so I should ignore the odd swelling on the top of my foot and eversion pain that originates from there... I'm going to bed and going to hope that it's not a talar fracture (thank you, Google) because I really don't want to brave another hospital with broken Japanese.