So I hobbled into work, for the first tine into ten days, my foot swollen and my toes blue from the ecchymosis, my ankled swathed in a fancy-pants brace with straps and laces and that for all the world like a sex toy (though I wouldn’t know what they would look like, I’m sure.)
Hoots of derisory, if somewhat loving laughter. . . and a new name, chosen with that charming Emergency Department humour: Timmy. Not Tiny Tim, the beloved Dickens character. The other one.
(I always wanted to be named after a South Park character.)
I have very evil colleagues. Which is reassuring: they must love me. I think.