If we have 20-20 hindsight, shouldn't we walk backwards?

Raise your hand if you are an idiot walking (hobbling) around with a broken toe.






Sorry, I had to put my hand down to type.

I would like to say that my broken toe is the result of some heroic efforts. Maybe I was saving 30 handicapped school children from a burning bus that was inches away from falling of a crumbling bridge into water infested with sharks (with friggin laser beams). Or maybe I had to help several old ladies cross the street during a local running of the bulls. I'd even be happy with something like tripping on a log as I helped a doomed worm cross a very large sidewalk.

But no.

I make a spectacular fool of myself. Thankfully it was only in front of my son. So the little guy was sitting in a dining room chair. He wasn't doing anything bad (like the writing in ballpoint pen all over our couch on Thursday) yet. But I had asked him, and then told him to get down from the chair. Now I was going to be the big daddy, take him out of the chair myself and put him in the corner. That would show him right. On my fantastic voyage I drove my foot into the wooden leg of a heavy, squishy, well upholstered La-Z Boy recliner (go to La-Z-Boy, mention this blog and get nothing off the purchase of your next overpriced piece of furniture). When I say drove my foot into it, the recliner moved a good 4 inches from the force of this one mighty metatarsal. After the crashing, I fell onto the recliner almost knocking it and a high chair to the floor and started to cry like a little girl...All while the sweet little menace sat peacefully in the dining room chair. (If you have ever seen Monsters Inc, there is the one scene where Mike Wazowski is tring to get back little Mikey, and does his crash into the garbage can, this would be a very similar picture)

At this point in the evening, my toe is swollen to the size of a baby carrot, is a nicely mottled purple color and is taped to the two surrounding toes. Not that it needs to be taped for support. It is swollen to the point where it is firmly crammed in between the other toes. It's not going anywhere without the other two.

So now, as I type this entry, in order to try to alleviate the throbbing, I have to sit with my left leg tossed up on the desk and now look like some kind of cat-man trying to lick himself.

Stop Laughing.

The rest of you can stop raising your hand now.