Hello, dearest. Did you have a nice weekend? I do hope so. Hm? Oh, thank you, my weekend was fine. A little too full of actual work, but they refuse to pay me if I don't work.
Anyway, my weekend was fine, but Roommate didn't have as much fun. Sigh.
Do you remember my talking about Roommate's pain tolerance? Personally, I don't get it; why would anyone want to tolerate pain? It makes no sense. If there is pain, it should be stopped immediately. And no, pain is not "weakness leaving the body," no matter what my darling ultra-fit friends say. No, it's not. No, it's not!
Look, we can quarrel about this later. The point is, Roommate is not a complainer when it comes to discomfort. It took a nearly ruptured gall bladder to get her into the walk-in clinic, so this is not necessarily the best thing. Okay, okay, I take the complaining too far in the other direction, but this is how I help the universal balance.
That smirk is not attractive, btw.
So, as we all know, Roommate walked sixty freakin' miles last weekend. Oh, excuse me, she "only" walked about fifty-five miles. Sorry. How foolish of me to exaggerate. She walked an obscene number of miles and shocker, her body was...shall we say, displeased with her? Yes. Yes, we shall.
Now, surely there are more painful injuries in the world, but this one is not a barrel of laughs, dear one. Roommate has been mightily uncomfortable, so much so, she's even--wait for it---
Yesterday, we went to the drug store and picked up supplies for this:
I have no idea if this will actually help. I vaguely remember this herringbone pattern of tape from high school, but maybe this was only useful when evading the dinosaurs.