My Left Foot
Mirrored from brigidkeely.com/wordpress.
I am… not the most agile, graceful person around. I do not leap nimbly about like some prima ballerina assoluta gazelle. I don’t lumber, but I am myopic and I also have astigmatism which means that straight lines don’t quite look straight, and I can’t always tell where things are. Like doors. Door frames. Walls. Stairs. I… sometimes? I fall down.
Lately I’ve been mangling my left foot. I managed to kick the bathroom door a few months ago, and scraped up a freaking BLOOD BLISTER along the entire length of my pinky toe. It took a month for that to resolve, and I was very afraid I was going to lose the toe nail. What was I doing when this kicking debacle took place? Was I lashing out in door-kicking rage? Stomping about in a fury? No. I was… walking to the bathroom.
On Saturday I did not step high enough over a plastic bin that Nesko was sorting the contents of. I have stumpy legs as well, you see. I managed to stub/scrape the three littlest toes on my left foot, splitting the nail of the second-to-smallest toe in half, about halfway down.
Why yes, this did hurt!
I shudder to think what disgraceful hell I will put my poor foot through next. Perhaps I will drop an axe on it, or accidentally step in front of a steam roller. Or maybe I’ll drop a bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade beer on my big toenail. Yeah. That sounds like something I’d do.
In other news, my 5 month old infant totally loves it when I toss him up in the air and catch him. Nesko thinks perhaps I shouldn’t do this as I am “not the most… coordinated… person around.” But how can I deny that hopeful look, that gummy drooling smile, that impending laugh? I used to lie awake at night terrified that I would drop this precious, fragile, meat sack creature. Now I toss him in the air. Good times. Good times.