Sunday I stubbed my pinky toe so hard on a chair that I made up new cusswords to yell because the old ones weren't potent enough. I hopped around screaming and dripping blood from my damaged toe for about an hour--okay, maybe two minutes--before determining that my injury was not in fact life-threatening. It's been a good excuse to wear sandals to work every day, though.
Well, this evening I went by the store, and after I'd paid I picked up my bag and promptly dropped it on THAT SAME TOE, which immediately began to bleed all over the place (or at least all over my favorite flip-flops). I would put it down to coincidence, but here's what I had in the bag:
carton of strawberry yogurt
single-serving plastic bottle of lemonade
In other words, nothing heavy and nothing with sharp corners. I can only assume that my toe is destined to lose its nail--it's looking pretty gross and purple--and that I'm destined to keep wearing those really cute sandals to work.
I'd liken the injuring and reinjuring of my little toe to the repeated blows of getting rejection letters, but frankly I'd rather just eat this yogurt.
To keep this writing-related, even if tangentially (toegentially?), I have no idea how much I've written on the tentatively-titled How Christopher Kaplan Learned to Lie because most of it's still not typed up, but I'm pretty sure I'm close to 10,000 words. That means I'm probably a quarter of the way through, maybe more!