Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Simple Pleasure? My Worst Enemy

If I was employing the royal we, I could say "we have met the enemy and he is us."

Since that's not something I normally do, I'll just admit to being my own worst enemy.

I was in New York, visiting my mother with my two boys.  She lives in the same apartment she has lived in for the last 58 years.  I don't think kitchen furnishings have changed in the last 40.  I should be able to navigate blindfolded.

Yet Sunday evening I put my little toe squarely into the iron leg of the kitchen table.

New idea: the lower six or eight inches of any furniture that touches the floor should be made of rubber.  Or maybe plastic filled with water, like those breakaway barrels on the expressway surrounding concrete supports.  It should definitely never be made of any substance harder than the toebone.  Without even looking, from the amazing pain, I was sure it was broken.  Visual examination the next day showed a blue and purple barrel where my pinky toe used to be.  The pain reminded me that I had broken it, in case I wasn't able to look at it all the time as a visual reminder.

My mother, Captain Hindsight, said "you should have had shoes on."

I'm planning on getting out soon.  I think I'll wear a dress, wig, makeup, jewelry, and sneakers.  Anyway, it's snowing now and heels and snow are a bad combination.


  1. Been there, done that. And the pain is awful. You have my sympathy...


  2. It happens, don't get too tough on yourself about it.

    I sprained my ankle a couple of weeks ago, badly enough to have several visits to the doctor since then. How did it happen? I was sleeping on a couch and the phone rang. Before I was even awake enough to know what happened, I'd put my weight on my right foot before it was flat underneath me.

    Take care of yourself, hon.



  3. Not so glad to hear that there's other people out there who habitually ram their toes into hard, painful objects. And, no, heels and ice do not go together. Boots, however, do.


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