Baby Steps.

I got a text last night from my landlord that informed me that they had poured concrete for the sidewalk in front of my door during the break in rain this week. He also mentioned that he hoped I wasn't wearing heels when I got hme . . . but it would probably be okay to walk on either way. I was wearing flippers so all was fine. Its amazing what a difference a sidewalk makes.

AND, the ability to park in a garage agagin. (Yes, I could take public transportation and for the first 4.5 years that I lived in Chicago, I did. I (a) thought the train was fun (still do despite the occasional overcrowding, questionable hygiene, and other less savory aspects of the El) and (b) felt like I had something to prove about living in a city with great public transportation to lessen my yuppie guilt. Despite the strength of (a) and (b), the reality of having rheumatoid arthritis and its resulting jerky, painful knees means that walking up and down the stairs to the El is sometimes mentally overwhelming and as a member of the Trump gym, I can park in its oh-so-convenient, across-the-street parking garage for roughly $6 per day -- OR, $1.50 more than taking the train both ways. Done and done.

Speaking of jerky knees, I haven't been in this much consistent pain since I was first diagnosed but not yet on medicated some four years ago. It simply cannot be all that modern medicine has to offer that both of my knees pop if fully straightened. Cute at first, really painful after awhile, especially walking down stairs. As a result, I recently decided enough was enough and made an appointment with a surgeon. And, tomorrow is Doctor Day (D-Day). I'm so excited. I hope my own personal D-Day results in an invasion of the work coast, that is to say, short term medical leave while I get surgered.