(Tony) Toe, Table, Tail

First the Sopranos ends, then I break my toe.* Will the indignities never end?

*Actually, I broke my toe first, then came the Sopranos finale (sob!). On that sad topic I'll just say that I'm glad Tony didn't die. And Pauly Walnuts, for whom I always had a soft spot. Whoa!

Toe story: decided not to garden (why the urge always to put that in scare quotes?) in steel-toed boots today, and what a shame. Also, maybe it's not such a bright idea engaging in any garden-related program activities in the summer as this just makes us thirsty. And when db and I get thirsty, we get the bright idea to take a water break, momentarily putting on hold the unholy death match struggle in which we are engaged w/ our backyard.

To facilitate said water breaks, about an hour earlier I'd put a couple of water bottles in the freezer, because what is better when one is engaged in an unholy death match struggle w/ one's backyard in 90º weather than very cold water w/ ice chips in it? Nothing, friends, nothing.

So db calls out, "ae! Here you go," and lobs the water bottle to me from the deck (a well-placed lob; not his fault). Oh, I can almost taste it already, that cold, cold water. Here it comes...

Slipped right through my hands. Landed bottom edge-down w/ the full force of its weight right on my foot. If I had wanted to break my toe, I couldn't have managed a better angle. Came right in at a 45º angle -- whatta trajectory! -- like a little frozen missile.

How to describe the pain? Hmm. The kind where you go kind of deaf for a second and then all you can hear is your own breathing, deep and regular, your mind completely blank, as if you are trying to give birth to your toe -- anything to dislodge the offending body part. Just had to crouch in the grass for a few minutes making Darth Vader noises, because it would have been unseemly (not to mention ungainly) to hop around wailing and crying.

I was wearing these rubber-grippy work gloves that were neither rubbery nor grippy enough, apparently. Ech, it wasn't the gloves' fault either. It seems that I can no longer catch a half-frozen bottle of water lobbed at me from 35-ft in a perfectly reasonable arc at a perfectly reasonable speed in broad daylight when I am looking and prepared to catch it. Getting older sucks. I blame the Republicans.

P.S. It's the middle toe, and it's nice and bluey-purple. And very fat. Icing it w/ Trader Joe's Biryani rice didn't do diddly, but the tape is helping.

Comments

[Skye]

Ow ow ow! So sorry. And you are so right to blame the Republicans. I'll speak sharply to my dad about his part in the incident. He voted for Bush and now he's broken your toe - obviously out of control.

[Pacian]

Eeee! Empathy, hitherto a blessing, now becomes a curse... Ouch!

PS. Don't throw anything at me, ever. I just can't catch.

[arse poetica]

Thank you for the sympathy, Skye and Pacian. I'm really okay, though my toes are turning some v. cool purple-blue colors now. It's like a moody sunset down below!

And, Skye, I really appreciate your talking w/ your dad about this. We've already talked w/ some neighbors and a co-worker, so between us, we should be able to wipe out the Republicans' nefarious influence over defenseless body parts. Hmmph.