Moments in My Real Life and My Poor Ugly Toe

I’ve been trying to get caught back up from the double time/half term class I accidentally took. It ended Wednesday so first thing Thursday I hit the grocery store and bought real food. The kind where I actually cut up vegetables and cook them and stuff. Not like the frozen lasagnas and microwave sausage patty in a biscuit things we were living off of the last month. With the occasional carryout from the pizza joint around the corner so I could pretend I fed the kids something veggie-ish. I’m getting fat with all this time sitting and studying and eating junk and not doing yard work. I never did get the “freshmen 15” but it appears I’m working on the “non-trad 20” now.

Friday and Saturday were again devoted to school. I still have five other classes that haven’t gone away.

Sunday I cleaned the kitchen and moved house-trees in for the winter. Yes, house-trees and I don’t mean little banzai abominations. House-plants are for amateurs. Go big and take it home or don’t go at all, I say. I have an indoor jungle in the high dessert. My banana tree had to get re-homed as it wasn’t coming back through my front door in one piece. I’m sad to have to say good-bye to it but I can always go visit it. I’m lucky to have a best friend who has a huge south facing double-sliding glass door it can go live behind. We also moved my Norfolk Pine/earth muffin eco-friendly Christmas tree back in. It feels good to move but then I was too sore and tired to do much.

Lots of people have friends who will help hide dead bodies. I have a friend who will move living house-trees without dropping a leaf. We’ve moved more than one it-weighs-more-than-us-combined project together and stayed friends.

Today was laundry and litter-boxes and more school and making my kids help clean when they got home. We were a tad late by the time I started dinner, 35 minutes to get everyone fed and be out the door.

And I knocked a jar of spaghetti sauce off a shelf trying to move an econo-box of goldfish crackers to check for refried beans. It was going to be tacos. Until I found myself suddenly on the floor with a swollen foot and amazingly unbroken jar of sauce. Trying not to cry and swear in front of little ears and aware that my toe no longer bends. PB heard the crash and tried to get me ice. He’s a sweet kid. I must have done something right. Unfortunately I ended up sitting smack between the freezer and the bags and by the time I could move, well, I was already there.

The seal on the jar popped but it was already down to 20 minutes before we had to go, not enough time to fix noodles and eat them. That m0$#3& f^@%!4& jar of sauce will have to be dinner tomorrow. I’ll show it who’s boss in the house. If a jar of sauce wants to eat me I’ll feed it to my kids. There. I win you evil jar of smashed tomatoes.

By this point I was starved and tired and slightly stunned. We ate nuked beans wrapped in tortillas with cheese and called it supper. Like tacos only lazier and without the diced veggies I wanted.

It still hurts like a beast. So much for trying to get more exercise this week. Looks like I’ll be keeping a foot up and iced instead of finishing chores and taking walks. Sigh. And I really have no choice but to get to town tomorrow and take care of errands and bills. Maybe I can wear sandals and ice it in the car in between stops?

That particular toe has had an exceptionally rough life. It once filled a shoe with blood in the halls of a public high school. I got sent home that time. It really wasn’t the toe’s fault some girl hit it with a door that caught the nail just right to rip it clean free from the bed and jamb it back in upside down. Um. Yeah. That one hurt so bad I couldn’t feel it and walked to class and 15 minutes into French noticed my foot felt wet. It wasn’t until I saw the shoe full of blood I felt it. I got four shots in the toe and minor surgery to extract the nail as well as purple stuff to paint it with for eight weeks in an attempt to stave off infections. At least I found purple nail polish that matched for the other 9 toes.

It’s my ugly toe. And I mean ugly. It looks like it’s been abused and misused. And it has. it really hasn’t done anything to deserve the life it’s had. It’s been a nice, functional toe helping me balance and walk and work. It’s a good toe, really. Just a damn ugly one. The nail never did grow back quite right. The last joint tries to curl under a bit. It sprouts 6 little hobbit hairs on the second joint. It’s sort of short and has a huge callous on the side. Poor toe. I love you. Get better soon.

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
This entry was posted in humor, personal essay and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s