A Toe Story
I was planning on writing a short story for the Write on Edge prompt (Clue) today. I got distracted.
See, three weeks ago, I rearranged my bedroom. In a fit of anger-driven energy, I moved my bed across the room and changed the placement of the desk, and added the extra dresser. I loved the way it looked. I loved that it gave us more room. I loved it. Until...
I had to make my bed. I may be a lousy housekeeper, but I make my bed every day. And, the new set up made it more than challenging. My side of the bed was against the wall, so I had to clamber across the mattress and sort of fling the sheets and comforter over. It was a joke.
Also, when I got on my bed, I had to crawl on from the bottom. It was dumb.
I put up with it because changing back would be a royal pain. And, I made this decision on my own, so sure that it would be great. This morning, I decided I'd had enough. I admitted I was wrong, and began the process of changing things back.
I was moving along, the desk was halfway across the room, and I was scooting/shimmying the dresser. In the middle of a shimmy, the dresser came forward quite aggressively and smacked into my big toe.
I didn't swear. You'd be proud of me. I wanted to really bad.
I pulled off my sock and saw the blood. I sat down. I held my foot. I groaned. Very, very, very carefully I pulled against my toenail. It came away from my toe almost all the way down. Then, I laid down on the floor and rolled back and forth. I'm not sure if it was the way the nail was no longer attached, or the pain--mostly the pain.
I grabbed a couple of cheap, polka-dot bandages from my dresser (do your kids cry for a bandaid, then take it off 10 minutes later? Mine do. So, I buy very cheap, disposable bandaids for them. I also buy good ones, which I keep hidden for when someone has a real wound. Like a dislocated toenail.) and I wrapped the bandaids around my toe. Then, I moaned some more. And, I texted the Handy Man. Not that he could help, but I thought it would comfort me to have his sympathy. It did.
So, instead of writing my story, or doing much of anything else, today I have babied my toe and sat with it elevated. I sipped diet Coke, popped ibuprofen, and ate ice cream. (Proven medical treatment.) Hopefully, it'll feel better tomorrow.
See, three weeks ago, I rearranged my bedroom. In a fit of anger-driven energy, I moved my bed across the room and changed the placement of the desk, and added the extra dresser. I loved the way it looked. I loved that it gave us more room. I loved it. Until...
I had to make my bed. I may be a lousy housekeeper, but I make my bed every day. And, the new set up made it more than challenging. My side of the bed was against the wall, so I had to clamber across the mattress and sort of fling the sheets and comforter over. It was a joke.
Also, when I got on my bed, I had to crawl on from the bottom. It was dumb.
I put up with it because changing back would be a royal pain. And, I made this decision on my own, so sure that it would be great. This morning, I decided I'd had enough. I admitted I was wrong, and began the process of changing things back.
I was moving along, the desk was halfway across the room, and I was scooting/shimmying the dresser. In the middle of a shimmy, the dresser came forward quite aggressively and smacked into my big toe.
I didn't swear. You'd be proud of me. I wanted to really bad.
I pulled off my sock and saw the blood. I sat down. I held my foot. I groaned. Very, very, very carefully I pulled against my toenail. It came away from my toe almost all the way down. Then, I laid down on the floor and rolled back and forth. I'm not sure if it was the way the nail was no longer attached, or the pain--mostly the pain.
I grabbed a couple of cheap, polka-dot bandages from my dresser (do your kids cry for a bandaid, then take it off 10 minutes later? Mine do. So, I buy very cheap, disposable bandaids for them. I also buy good ones, which I keep hidden for when someone has a real wound. Like a dislocated toenail.) and I wrapped the bandaids around my toe. Then, I moaned some more. And, I texted the Handy Man. Not that he could help, but I thought it would comfort me to have his sympathy. It did.
So, instead of writing my story, or doing much of anything else, today I have babied my toe and sat with it elevated. I sipped diet Coke, popped ibuprofen, and ate ice cream. (Proven medical treatment.) Hopefully, it'll feel better tomorrow.
I'm glad I read this AFTER I spent the last few days moving furniture for my parents...otherwise I would've been very paranoid. :) I'm SO sorry about your toe!
ReplyDelete:(
ReplyDeleteHope your toe gets better soon. Band-aids and I have become close friends. .. love the idea of polka-dotted ones!
That is so grisly. I hope your toe feels better. Such a shame to mess up your pretty orange pedicure so.
ReplyDeleteYou have made me feel queasy. Ouch. You are excused from real writing for the day.
ReplyDeleteDang! I am unable to capture in words/letters the sounds I made as I scrolled down and saw that picture and read the details--so dang will have to do. You have my empathy as well as my sympathy and, in addition, you have inspired a few horrible toe-related flashbacks. ;)
ReplyDeleteThanks for all the sympathy and concern. My toe is doing better, though it's just a matter of time before I lose the nail. (My husband keeps suggesting I have a doctor 'rip it off'. Sorry, already did that and it didn't feel good. I'd rather give it time.)
ReplyDeleteOwwwwwwwwwwwww!
ReplyDeleteI commend your restraint, all forms of ill gotten language would have escaped my lips (scratch that it has in the past!!). Glad it is feeling better.