When the Hell Am I Going to Be Able to Trade in This Stupid Organic Body for a Robot Model?

Gaah. Woke up today after fours hours of shut-eye and could not get back to sleep. I finally just decided to give up, get up, and work on pumping myself full of coffee. And, man, it's such perfect sleeping weather, too: cloudy and rainy and cool. It just doesn't seem fair somehow. Sigh. It's gonna be a loooong night shift tonight, I can tell.

In other me-related news, I still haven't been to see a doctor about my foot, but a little research has lead me to a pretty confident self-diagnosis of plantar fasciitis, an inflammation of a ligament in the foot. The symptoms sound spot on, and so do the causes, for that matter. (Why, yes, I do put a lot of stress on my feet.) Those of you who suggested that it might be a "bone spur" appear to have been the right track, as apparently the two conditions are associated, but it's not actually the bone spur (if there is one) that causes the pain. According to my Mayo Clinic Family Health Book (which is doubtless a somewhat more trustworthy source of information than the internet), the good news is, if I'm right, it's probably not something that'll require surgery. The bad news is that it takes a long time to heal: anywhere from three months to a year. This thought does not make me happy. Walking is the only real form of exercise I get, and not only that, but I enjoy it. It helps me burn off extra restless energy, and provides a wonderful way of focusing my mind when I need to think. A year without any serious walking and I'll be a six hundred-pound nervous wreck with writer's block. Sigh. Well, at least it really doesn't sound like it's anything too urgent, which means I'm probably fine if I put off making an appointment for a couple of weeks until I'm back to being awake during the day. Not that it would have made a difference today, I guess...