: pile-drove or pile-driven? :

hollerStubbed is a puny understatement. Hammered is okay. Clobbered and walloped are better. But I’m going with the wildly ungrammatical; I pile-drove my toes into the bed frame. Sorry if that clanks or sounds nonsensical, but it’s hard to think with the screaming in my head.

I broke a toe, the big one, the one who went to market. However, if the searing, crippling, thrumming pain is any indication, I pulverized all five in the melee. It’s also conceivable my ankle’s sprained and shin splints can’t be ignored. I ought to be in an ICU under heavy sedation.

Swelling and discoloration have transformed my once dainty, alabaster foot into a Sasquatch-sized paw in a glossy Pantone 269, deep eggplant. Isn’t it astonishing how stretchy and colorful skin can be? And uglyfying, especially at the start of summer. Goodbye flip-flops. Goodbye happy feet. Hello orthopedic shoes.


Now, in case you’re wondering how I hobbled myself, I‘m curious, too One minute I was gathering laundry and the next I was hopping on one foot and howling at the moon. It’s possible I tripped over a stray shoe. It’s also possible I tripped over my own feet. But the likeliest suspect is the floor.

I’ve suffered more than one accident, and loads of close calls, in that precise location. I swear the floor’s warped or ridged or furrowed, because it catches my shoe and sends me flying into door frames, walls, the closet, wballerinahatever’s handy. I shoot around the bedroom like a billiard ball at least three times a year. But only in that one spot.

You know what really chaps my cheeks? This wasn’t self-inflicted or the result of something fun and heedless, like bungee jumping. No, it was housework, the dullest activity there is. Sleeping is more fraught with perils — sleepwalking springs to mind and rolling out of bed, particularly from the top bunk.

The moral of the story? Remain alert, boys and girls, many grave dangers aren’t clearly marked.

toe shoecopyright © 2016 the whirly girl

17 thoughts on “: pile-drove or pile-driven? :

  1. Oh how funny — especially since Marcia Gay Harden is a Texas girl. What I usually get is Diane Keaton. It started way back when Annie Hall came out and continues to this day, even from strangers. The problem? She’s 10 years older than I am and looks WAY better. I’d be more her dowdy little sister.

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  2. Wow! You really mangled it. I did the same thing last year except there was no laundry involved and it was just the outside two toes. This looks like you managed to mangle every toe. I know there is nothing they can do for broken toes but when it is every toe you would think they could put a cast on it for you. Toes take twice as long to heal as fingers which doesn’t bode well for those flip flops.

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    1. They’d just put a big, ugly boot on it and I’d stump around like Frankenstein. I’ve been wearing sneakers for protection, which works. It really looks better, still pretty swollen and sensitive and lifeless, but gray instead of purple. The flip-flops are my carrots at the end of the stick. Oy, I wish I was graceful.

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      1. My toes are fine, I’m happy to report. My knee, however, not so much. Pickleball is taking its toll yet I refuse to stop. I doubt it’s any solace, really, but know you’ve got a friend out here who’s living in pain at the moment right along with you.

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        1. A torqued knee beats crushed toes. Hell, a torqued knee beats a broken arm — in my world.

          By the way, I’ve been watching The Newsroom and every time Marcia Gay Harden pops up I think of you. Maybe it’s just the timing — hearing from you during the binge-watch — but I wondered if you actually resemble her in the slightest. Do you?

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