These Boots Weren't Made for Walking

In my 50 years of life on this earth, there are two things that have been pretty consistent:

1. I'm pretty good at being a total klutz...

2. I'm pretty good at blaming anyone and everyone else for my misfortunes.

Take last week, for instance...

...when I broke my foot.

I'm pretty sure that I can blame this one on my daughter.

It was SHE who decided to wait until the very last possible second to wait for the school bus - which drives me absolutely, crazily, INSANE, by the way...If the bus comes at 7:36, she decides that 7:35:30 is the time to amble over to the door. Gah.

And because she wasn't at the door, waiting for that bus, it was I who, because I thought I heard it coming, decided to run, barefoot, in a pitch-dark living room, to see if it was, indeed, the bus....

The results of my frantic barefoot flight across a darkened room were twofold:

1. I didn't see the bus...so, I'm not sure exactly what it was that I had heard....

2. I didn't see the chair with the wooden legs...which decided to JUMP out and trip me on my dash to the front door.

When a bare foot with teeny-tiny vulnerable toes meets up with a wooden chair leg...and the foot has momentum behind it, by the way...the results can only be described as...not good.

Yowza.

I could literally hear the sound of a crack as I made contact with the chair...upon which, I immediately dropped to the floor, clutching my affected toes, and saying a few words that can not be printed here.

I crawled to the refrigerator, grabbed a bag of frozen peas, and hobbled to the sofa, where I sat...for the next two hours...nursing my poor appendage with ice. Alternating between cursing my own klutziness and my daughter's tardiness, with pleas and prayers for my foot to make a miraculous recovery, it was soon evident that my ministrations were to no avail.

I am now sporting a lovely black and blue foot, which is behaving somewhat like a temperamental two-year old. For something that I never really paid much attention to over the years - other than to decorate it with either lovely pink nail polish or fabulous shoes - it's really taken on a personality that can only be described as...horrible.

My foot has decided that it somewhat doesn't like the simple, mundane task of walking...and God forbid if I attempt to go down a flight of stairs. That brings on a full-blown temper tantrum by said foot.

It's even more frustrating when you see the fabulous shoes I had purchased recently to wear for Christmas....



Aren't these divine??


But instead of wearing THAT shoe, I'm wearing this lovely contraption:



Attractive, yes? Bleh.

And with that, now I'M going to go off and behave like a temperamental two-year old... wah wah wah.

Peace.