Clinging to life

My poor skates died last night. Finally, after so many years of service, they all-out crapped out on me. Well, not entirely. I won't get into the nitty gritty of the issue, especially since I am really upset/angry about the whole thing. Basically there has been a tongue-related problem invovling a bent, hard, pokey bit that digs into my ankle. Its usually not that bad, sometimes I can't notice it at all, so I've just ignored it. Last night however, last night something snapped, and suddenly my little discomfort became intense, blinding pain. Like someone was taking a hammer to my ankle, I couldn't even put pressure on it. Several dressing-room attempts to remedy the problem failed, and I changed, showered slowly, so angry. I didn't even get tired, had just warmed up, and I had a whole hour and a half of practice left. Not to mention the question of what to do about Saturday's game, not to mention the thought of what to do with my skates.

New skates? Ha! I have been far too attached to these far too long. Then of course there's the fact that I am in the UK. In my mind, this is akin to needing severe surgery in a tiny mountain village in Tibet. Those monks have good intentions, but man oh man I'd probably prefer to get that done at home. I am sure that they have skates here, but mine? Something to replace them? Holy Hell, you've got to be kidding me. Of course there's also the practical issue of even if I replace the damn things, I still have to play Saturday and playing with new skates is no good. Then there's the time problem, ie: although there is luckily a contingent going out to the sports warehouse today (seriously, there is only one, and its only open on Friday... see? welcome to hockey's tibet), I had a solid 5-6 hour library stint planned today. AND if I did get new skates I would have to go down to the rink and break them in at general skate. Ugh. Maybe I should just do it. New skates. Yikes.

I am so upset by this I cannot even describe the feeling. Its like combining the inconvenience of standing in a giant line to do something unpleasant, like, waiting for two hours just to get a government document stamped, with someone squeezing your foot in a vice, all the while knowing that your pet bunny rabbit just died and someone has to own up to burying him. I know that sounds ridiculous... then combine the fact that your car is slowly running out of metre time and you can see the woman coming up the street to ticket you. That's me, right now. But I can't seem to get out of line. This is ridiculous.

On the bright side, I found out yesterday that I magically learned a slap shot. Magically, like, I can lift the puck 1 or 2 times out of 5. Found out right before my little injury took me out, so I didn't get a chance to practice, but man was it exciting.