Pretty sure I just broke my little toe. Kicked it on a piece of furniture. Sigh. Luckily I had some strong painkillers left over from my last skin cancer op, so I’ve dulled it down to something manageable.
These stupid injuries always make me feel especially stupid. Last time I did this I at least had the excuse of being massively drunk on Christmas Day. Snapped the toe out at right angles to the foot, but I had so many champagnes and breakfast martinis on board I barely felt it - for a little while.
Anyway, I guess I’ll strap it up and get on with it.
What sort of sympathy did you get from Jane? Mrs W would have asked whether I got an ouchy on my widdle toe, then told me to HTFU, laughed, and then never mentioned it again.
Ooooh, that is definitely at the more painful end of domestic flubs.
My darling lady had a furniture vs toe episode during a Germanic, School teacher, step-monster driven rage last year (yes, thankyou for your sympathy it is a terrifying trifecta. Next time you need a template for a terrifying (but otherwise beautiful) monster to crawl out of the underworld....you're welcome!).
Over the next few weeks of bare footed hobbling there was also a lot of squirming each time the "How did you do that?" question was asked. Many a chortle was not suppressed in the slightest as the situational context got related, and yeah, I did have a tendency to guide the conversation towards the situational context.
I hope in your case the universe has been unkind and their is no element of karmic rebalance involved!