Saturday Night: 

Went dancing.  Felt fine.

Went to bed. Felt fine.

Sunday:

Woke up.  Couldn’t put pressure on my foot without a lot of pain (that’s a lot of pain by Woman-Raised-By-A-Marine standards, not by normal wussy standards).

Decided to gut it out, that it would probably get better in a day.

Monday:

Woke up and couldn’t put pressure on my foot without tears involuntarily springing to my eyes.  Called acupuncturist.  Saw acupuncturist.  Could stand on it again.  Got crutches on his advice.  Spent evening alternating ice, heat, and super-smelly Tonic thing from acupuncturist.

Tuesday:

Spent day swearing at crutches.