What Grinds My Gears #8: Ankle-sized potholes

The other morning I did my usual routine:

Wake up.
Realize I'm awake.
Wish I wasn't awake.
Realize I have to stay awake.
Contemplate killing myself.
Realizing that would hurt.
Forcing myself out of bed.
Driving to Starbucks.
Getting iced coffee and coffee cake.
Driving to work.
Getting out of the car.
Walking to my desk.
Sitting in, about or around my deskal region.
Working and things, with stuff.

Well, this particular morning, when I got out of the car with my coffee and coffee cake, I made my way across the parking lot to the office. I stepped off a planter that's raised about an 3 inches off the ground, and set my ankle firmly in this ankle-sized pothole.....and rolled my ankle like a mo-fuck.

The pain was super fucking awesome, and I immediately fell on the ground and dropped my coffee cake. I immediately uttered phrases that, if I was already in the office, would have got me a first-class ticket to Human Resources.

At first, I thought I broke my ankle. But then, after I wiped my tears and changed my crapped-in underwear, I could get up and slowly walk on it.

The ankle was swollen for a while, and remained uncomfortable to walk on for the next few days.
It's one thing to almost break my ankle. It's another to drop my god damn coffee cake. That's not acceptable. I'm thinking of contacting Potholes America Inc., and complaining that their operation to install potholes in dangerous places is far too efficient.

Then I'll kick them in the cunt.