The offending instrument of tortureI loaded the dogs in the back of the car to take them on a walk and went to get into the driver's seat. There is a mesh pocket in my door where I keep, well, basically anything that gets stuffed in there. Today there was a Bic pen with about 1" of the writing tip sticking through the mesh. In a truly spectacular feat, I somehow managed to put the tip of it into my big toe. It took out a gash of skin right next to my nail and then seemingly plowed further into my toe, causing quite a bit of damage. Now I know I am not doing an adequate job of explaining, and I would post a picture of the actual injury but, given that every time Scott looks at it he recoils in disgust, I thought maybe it may not be appropriate.
My toe (in my cute new flops)I am not sure when I have experienced such pain and pain, and I have a long standing relationship. It hurt so bad that I ended up calling Scott and asking him to come home. Not because he could do anything, but just having him here to share in my pain made me feel better.
I am confident that, given 1000 tries, I could not recreate this act. Scott asked me over and over to try and explain why my foot was where it was, shouldn't have been my other foot, was I inspired by the Olympic gymnastics trials and doing a running mount into the driver's seat? But no, I was just getting into the car.
As I was laying in bed last night, big toe throbbing in Fred Flintsone proportions, I cursed myself for quitting ballet classes as a child. I thought it was dull and boring. The only part I liked was jumping over the candlestick and, let's be realistic, just how long can doing split jumps over a "candlestick" fashioned from a toilet paper roll and some tissue paper be expected to keep one's interest?
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