I Knew This Would Get Boring

Okay, so I ain't a fool. As exciting as pseudo-homelessness seems, it's not always fun to write about. Last week (Phase 4) was spent at Katie and Shane's, and ended without incident. I moved to Phase 5 (Morgan's house) before lending my van to Ian. It came back with a flat tire. Ian somehow managed to watch me floor pump the tire from in the rim to 35 P.S.I. before suddenly remembering pulling a jagged shard of metal out if the sidewall of the very same tire the night before. Classic Ian.

Anyhow, I never like driving the van in the sun because I have my scooter. My intention was to fix it within a week so I could get my stuff out of Morgan's place before he gets back. The trouble with the scooter is that the centre stand is severely bent such that the bike sits so low, one can't start it because the kick starter just slams into the ground. Ideally, the front wheel should be up about six inches so the starter can crank right around. In order to get around this, I've been putting the bike on the very edge of the sidewalk and kicking at it from the street below. That way, the starter hangs out over the street and has room to crank all the way over.

Yesterday, I left work halfway through the day to run errands. One errand was fixing the tire of the van. I did my usual sidewalk routine, and once I got her started, I went to take her off the stand, misjudged, and the whole shit came down, throwing me on the street. I took all the weight of the scooter on my right foot. It fucking hurt!

I spent the next few hours, pride in check, running errands. I hobbled around for blocks. I bought some beer and went back to Morgan's. Upon pulling off my shoe, I saw this:



Uh oh. I told Shannon what happened, and she made me go to the hospital. Fortunately, Morgan lives only two blocks from one, so I kicked off my other shoe and walked.

As it turns out, it's broken. I need crutches to walk, a tensor bandage to hold it together, and my van to get around. I also have to move tomorrow again, and suddenly have to rely on others just to move my clothes. To make matters worse, I've rented my van to Dylan for a solo tour starting next week, so I won't even have that. That's right, the cocky bastard with three vehicles and a bicycle is going to be rocking public transit. I'm sure I somehow deserve this.

Oh, and I had to steal Morgan's shoes. The guy is a snappy dresser:



He also has slightly bigger feet than I do, so his shoes fit over the tensor bandage:



Nice kicks, hey? At least I made my blog interesting.