In a moment in poor decision making, I kicked an ottoman yesterday, possibly breaking my toe. I wrapped, splinted, and put it up on ice almost immediately, then used a cane when I went out. Given the circumstances, I admit that going out may not have been the most clever thing I’ve ever done, but Rhienna from Portland is visiting, (as well as my mother), and missing her wonderful DJ set and/or not taking her to The Unicorn would have felt like an indictable crime. She is a precious, beautiful creature, and if I have to walk on a broken toe to see her, well so be it, and I did, and it was totally worth it. Also, we sat a lot.
Today, thankfully, it seems my toe is likely only sprained, as standing no longer wants to make me cry. I feel this is a victory for a number of reasons, but mostly because even though the x-ray people all used to know me by name, I still haven’t broken any of my bones yet and I’d rather like to keep it that way. Especially given that if I’m fated to snap one some day, it had better be for something a damned sight more interesting than furniture kicking.
ps. I have, however, chipped my teeth. Twice eating pierogies, another time on Tony’s (since-absent) tongue piercing. Both satisfying narratives, so that’s alright, isn’t it?