My foot has been killing me. Back around Valentines I broke my toe in two spots. The bruising and swelling was impressive and painful. I had been demonstrating a grande jete and came dangerously close to a barre. It made me land awkwardly. X-rays confirmed a break. Six weeks later I was still in pain but the follow-up X-ray showed a complete healing. I did the exact same step in June even while it still hurt and again landed awkwardly (probably because I was still injured) but while slightly painful nothing significant happened. BUT THEN this past weekend my husband picked up a dustpan and tried to kill a fly. He failed. Instead the dustpan swung wildly from his hand and the corner went right into my foot. I was in tears. Every day since then I was in tears. My foot hurt. My heel hurt. My shin hurt. I went to a doctor on Wednesday and she put me in an "air cast" which is basically a boot that I can take off while I drive and sleep.
Walking up stairs is difficult. Chasing babies is difficult. Cleaning dishes is difficult. Tidying is difficult.
And tending to hens is difficult.
And so today was it. The end. No more. I asked some friends if they wanted our hens. Our run and coop were destroyed in a storm. The hens were roaming free and pooping everywhere. There are so many flies. Imagine giving birth to the Savior in such conditions. I digress. The boys were not gentle with them and I felt bad for the chickens.
We sent Rita, Maryann, Kathy, Clare, Eileen, Betty, Rose, Mariko, and Ann home to live a better life on 2+ acres instead of our .14 acre. It was quite fun rounding them together in our destroyed backyard. On a broken foot.
I think they'll be happy.