Tuesday

The Toe is continuing on its journey of self discovery. It seems to have fallen into a toe coma. It doesn't get better, it doesn't get worse, unless I stubb it or the dog steps on it or I drop something on it...  I need to keep the shoe on it.

Today I tried  a new thing, I wore a sock for the first time. Toe didn't like it at first, but it adjusted and seemed to be okay with the change. I need the sock because the shoe is chafes a little and I do not need a blister.

I like the swimming, the swimming is great, but I already know the women,, er, girls, lets be real here, gymnasts won the gold, can we just watch that? Come on! I'm down with the swimmers but I think I'd rather watch the US win gold on the ground, doing something I can actually see.

Anyway.

Micheal Phelps just won gold number 20.

He's a machine.  If smoking pot makes you that kind achieving machine I think we have it all wrong. I mean, damn. Let the man light up , he seems to be a pretty intense guy, if he needs to self medicate to unclench, let him unclench. He doesn't need to go for the gold every day.

Oh. The plumber came, he saw, he corrected! I paid him about the same as the bill I could not afford to pay the city, but now I won't have a repeat of it next month and I have a much nicer kitchen faucette than I would have provided for myself, if it had been left up to me, nicer and without the constant leak. My toilet upstairs is silent and for the first time in months, at rest.