As far as that goes, the sincerity with which people have been saying, "Call me if you need anything" is really quite touching. True, I've no desire to need anything, and even less desire to call because I do -- still, I can appreciate the sentiment.

And yet. Have you ever seen the home of someone who is not quite mobile? Honestly, I really really wish I'd cleaned just the day before my fated flight down the stairs. In the few days since, my room has come to look like a tornado hit it. Nothing is in its right place, there's fast-food containers everywhere, and just a general atmosphere of things being dropped, thrown, forgotten in the most convenient place. Irritates the piss out of me. It's true, even if I'd cleaned just before my accident, it would still look mostly like this -- but it would still feel more clean, to me. My being so discerning and all.

For the most part the pain has dropped off quite a bit. Unfortunately, yesterday everyone who saw it was quite taken aback by my foot being swollen up like a balloon. "Keep it elevated!" they all scream at me. "Put an ice pack on it!" So I've started keeping it up when I can, which ironically results in some knee pain, since the splint was put on in such a way as to make the knee tend towards a slight bend.

Allow me just a moment to reiterate: My God but does this suck balls. I really wish there was some emotion, thought, or action I was capable of that could accelerate the healing of my broken limb. But what heals a broken bone, besides time?

Last night I was gonna sit on my porch and drink with a bunch of my friends, as going out seemed a poor idea. It was a poor idea, but as one of the friends I invited tends to be so type-A as to drive all my other friends away, I ended up letting her drag my gimp ass out once everyone else was gone.

Can't say as being out in bars with a broken ankle seemed to make much sense to me. That's probably just because it was incredibly stupid, tho. I will, however, be frank -- I went out because my odds of getting lucky were at least in theory much higher than if I just stayed home and sulked. And for all my movements would still be hindered, I can't help but imagine that a little (or lot) of good sex might help a bit with my mood. Granted, a wounded guy probably doesn't seem very sexy -- what can I say, I was already buzzed by the time I let C. drag me out.

But no, no spur of the moment sex from her or anyone else I ran into last night. Really, what a shocker. To be fantastically honest tho -- a part of why I invited C. and then went out with her is that I hadn't seen her in quite a long time, and once she showed up she was displaying a lot of the signs of loneliness and slight depression that she tends to when she's single. We slept in my bed like brother and sister, because that seemed to be what she wanted. And in truth, I was exhausted from hauling myself around on crutches all night.

BUT. There is one other person I haven't seen in a long time, who in fact called last night. I give myself about 80% odds of going to bed with her if I call her for dinner, and unlike C. and I, the two of us have never slept in bed like brother and sister. Well, maybe like a rather twisted brother and sister, but we won't get into that.

So what's the problem? This other friend, A., I'd guess runs about 200 lbs at 5'10". Nice girl, can't say I'm really attracted to her, tho. Why have I slept with her in the past? Well, if you add "drunk enough" to "incredibly, fantastically horny" ... well, surprising things can happen.