Otherwise

I had an interesting interpersonal interaction this week. Given that I am rather the aspiring misanthrope, I of course do not have very many interactions. As a result, merely the fact that I had an interaction at all is something of interest. No one was better suited for a stay-at home order than yours truly: I was already at home. Happily.
Given this preference to avoid most people, the fact that I experienced some type of exchange with another of our species is usually due to something unpleasant. Most of my contacts are either people who come to the house to fix something, the occasional cashier (I don’t know who invented the self-scanning registers but thank you!) or, of course, members of the medical profession. It is with this last group that the interaction to which I first referred above transpired.
As it turns out, I have developed plantar fasciitis as a direct consequence of trying to stay healthy during the stay-home orders. Finally having had enough of the discomfort, I saw an orthopedist who, atypically for a surgeon, did not immediately suggest a surgical solution to this problem. Rather, I was given a prescription for physical therapy and a suggestion to get some Epsom salts. I am no doubter of science in the least, but when have Epsom salts ever solved any problem? It sounds like an old wives’ tale that we just can’t fully eradicate, much like the notion that exercise will help one lose weight.
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