By a romantic gesture from the Geek? I wish.
By another of SP’s flying elbows? No.
I’ve been brought low by a box of Writing Playground pens.
You read that right. A box of WP pens.
See, my office isn’t tidy on the best of days, but the deeper I get into a book (and the closer the deadline looms), the more disastrous the mess becomes. By the time the book gets turned in, I’ll need a backhoe to clear a path. So the arrival of our new shipment of lovely Playground pens was met with a hearty “Where the hell am I going to put these?” My choice was next to the bookshelf in my office. Turns out, that’s not quite the best place to have the edge of a heavy box sticking out and awaiting unwary toes.
When the foot turned purple and continued to swell even after 24 hours, DG made me go get an x-ray. Sure enough, it’s broken. Of course, there’s not a lot the docs can do for a broken toe except tape it to the toe next to it and hand out painkillers.
Of all the interesting and painful things I’ve done to my body, I’ve never had a broken toe. (You’d think with all the dancing, I’d have broken a couple, but nope.) This is not at all fun. Little toe does not equal little pain. Plus, all the hobbling about has made my knee start to hurt. Sigh.
I’m supposed to stay off of my foot for a couple of days and then take it easy for about a week after that. If I behave, I should be okay by the time the HOD Luncheon comes around. I’d better be; I really don’t want to wear flip-flops to the luncheon instead of my pretty red patent-leather peep-toe stilettos. Shoe vanity has accomplished what my friends and family have tried to get me to do for years with no luck: actually follow the doctor's instructions and stay off it.
So I’m ensconced on the couch with my laptop. The rainy weather is perfect for napping, and the painkillers make napping a tempting choice. It’s tough, but I’m determined to ignore the siren song of the nap and make headway on this book.
The sooner I get it turned in, the sooner I can get my office cleaned up, and the safer my other nine toes will be.
Based on my many trips to the ER over the years, I’m convinced the docs and nurses ask you to describe what happened in detail only because they need a good laugh at the stupidity of some people. And I know I’ve given them some good stories to tell. What’s the craziest way you’ve ever injured yourself?