It's hard to tell in the picture, but there is some serious colour happening in the area of my swollen, mishapen baby toe. I didn't want to say anything, because I don't want to appear whiny. But I'm gonna.
Last Friday night, all was going well, at 7:16 p.m. I was playing Boggle on the computer, just before pulling a cake out of the oven for company that would be arriving at 7:30 p.m. (That's right - I made a cake. What about it?)
At 7:17 p.m., the buzzer went off for the cake. I stood, turned, swung my left foot around to step towards the kitchen, and promptly went blind. This was due to the blinding pain in my baby toe as it connected with some unknown, immovable object, probably a piece of Spike's gear, that looks vaguely like this:
My baby toe is particularly vulnerable to stubbing, ever since I thoroughly dislocated it as a child. I'd be happy to tell you that story sometime. For now, let's get back to Friday's moment of blinding pain, shall we?
As gravity kicked in, I reached for the counter to stop my fall. Missed. Caught the counter with my chin instead. My fall came to an end, when my knee crash-landed on the metal transition that marks the spot where our kitchen floor drops a couple of inches to our dining room / computer room floor.
(Yes, it's a dining room / computer room. Why not?)
And then I hollered. Perhaps you heard me?
Spike came running, and while I was grateful for his desire to help, I threatened dire consequences if he so much as considered touching my baby toe. He felt it was in his best interest to comply, and ran for ice instead.
Then our company showed up, and I whined a little, and then sat for the rest of the night with a bag of ice on my toes while we visited.
Saturday, I really couldn't walk without a noticeable limp. Called Telehealth, called the on-call doctor, iced and Tylenol-ed myself, and pondered my incredible clutz factor.
Sunday started better, but as you know, Sundays require me to be on my feet, and by the end of the day, I was achin' a little. No whining though.
Monday was really not bad.
Tuesday was tolerable.
Wednesday - that's today - I went outside to water my 3 hanging plants that don't catch the rain. In my bare feet. And as I turned to come back inside, my evil cat (you can read more about him here, here and here, for starters) tried to dart out the door. I swerved to miss his furry little body, the screen door swung shut on my derriere, propelling me forward, and as my body gracefully flew through the doorway, the door frame made a solid connection with - you guessed it - that same toe.
No hollering this time. Just a deadly silence as I waited, once again, for my vision to return.
So yeah. I'm whinin'. And yes, I would like some cheese with that whine. Brie would be nice.
