the gimp speaks

Every once in a while I inadvertently make a public display of the normally private oddities of my quirky brain. Case in point:
Thanks to an injured foot, I have spent the past several days hobbling about in an increasingly halting manner—“increasingly” because of my stubborn tendency to ignore the injury and continue running on it until I have significantly worsened it. Before a chorus of chastisements comes my way, I should at least clarify, in my own defense, that 8 years of running has left me spoiled by an odd lack of normal runner’s complaints. The worst of my injuries is usually a nagging pain that just goes away on its own.
This particular one, however, is worse. I don’t know how it happened, but the nurse I talked to said it is probably just a sprain but possibly a fracture. An x-ray is necessary to determine that for sure, and I’m not financially ready to spring for that one yet.
And so I hobble.
The point of all that is that, being spoiled like I mentioned, I am beginning to get rather childishly sulky about it. It is decidedly frustrating to not be able to run, and to not be able to stand without pain.
So last night, after hitting my limit of being out and about, my brother and I settled in for a game of Scrabble. At some point in the course of the game I was trying to convince him of something: probably the use of a word that I technically should not have played. He justifiably balked at my plea, at which point I continued more insistently.
Come on, Alex, just this one play . . . I have a good reason for whiny gimpishness at the moment . . .
At that point, eyebrows raised, Alex looked up from his letters. “What did you just say?”
What? . . . just that I needed to display my whiny gimpishness.
Convinced that he had heard me correctly this time, Alex snickered. He then proceeded to roar with laughter, apparently unconcerned with the fact that he was laughing at me, not with me.
And I continue to hold unswervingly to the perfectly normal nature of my descriptive phrase.