Carex doesn't care about you!

This afternoon I went to the local department store in order to buy a cane. Hopefully, I'll only need it for a couple of weeks, after which the ankle will be healed and I'll be back to my full-strength athletic self.

We went to the store and bought one, a brand called Carex. It's a fairly nice cane, with a purple metal outer shell, good adjustment, and a cushioned handgrip. I feel old just using it.

The Carex label was affixed to the cane with a pair of zip ties. The zip ties were so damned tight that we asked for a pair of scissors to cut them off. "How the hell is an eldery person supposed to deal with this?" Omaha asked as we wrestled with it, and then just as I got the last tie, the scissors slipped and I sliced the two last fingers on my left hand open.

There was much bleeding.

The damage turned out to be less than initially expected. Some BZK to clean, fresh bandages and a butterfly for the ring finger, and I was more or less back to fully functional.

The universe really doesn't want me to enjoy a week off, does it?

The cane worked well enough, and I was able to get around Seattle without too much hassle.