So the MRI results came back, and Andrew did not tear his achilles tendon like the doctor had promised. Apparently, he tore a ligament inside of his ankle, one that I keep forgetting how to pronounce, forcing the geekface orthopedist to preface each sentence with, "LIKE I ALREADY SAID," every single time that I asked him a question about the whatchamacallit thingamajiggy that Andrew ripped. That was NOT his achilles.
The upside is that he only plays Robocop for three more weeks instead of eight.
It also means that snowboarding in Vermont is still ON LIKE DONKEY KONG.
On a related note, the Robocop boot cost a hundred and eighty some odd dollars, and when Andrew was being fit for it he asked, "For that kind of money shouldn't we at least get a pair?"
Because you know we're going to need the other one.
And I was like, "Good idea in theory, except there's snowboarding and me and I also have two arms and a back and skull, so probably what we should really be asking for is, like, A PACKAGE DISCOUNT."
A big big big package.