Mister Blister

I like to include pictures in my blog (usually obtained from Google>images)--mostly to apologize for the lack of actual pictures from my life--but let me just warn you now: Do not seek out blister pictures! I'm still shuddering. On the inside. This will just be a text post.

Situation: Blister appears on appendage.
Solution: ???

I'm sure that many people, most people, do not devote nearly as much time, worry, or attention to such trivialities as a small-ish blister on their little toe. It took me a little bit of time to even accept the fact that I even had a blister after my 26-mile trek on Monday. I've got oddly-shaped toes. It's an annoyance that I've come to accept as fact. 19 years later, and I still remember Chandra commenting on how her current flirtation partner said she had short, fat feet. (Thanks, Gordon.) ;o) You know, you aim your comment at one twin . . . sometimes it hits them both. Double home run! Strangely enough, though, I haven't gotten a blister in years and years and years, so my recently acquired blemish caused my brow to furrow and my fingers to dial. I asked for advice from everyone . . . track coaches, co-workers, family, Wikipedia. Only to find, after two days or so of research, that my blister had abated on its own. Drama over. Not really worthy of even a whole post entry, but I think the only way to purge those pictures from my mind is virtual transference from thought to blog. Thanks for being the outlet to my horror.