So yesterday afternoon (sometime last spring) my wife is sitting in a chair at the table and I walk by. I’ve done this  a zillion times, her sitting in that chair and me walking by. This time I walked by but the little toe on my right foot didn’t. It slammed into chair. I either sprained or fractured it, I can never tell the difference. I don’t know how many times I’ve done this. At least once a year I sprain or fracture my right little toe. I hobble and wince a bit, maybe. That’s it. I generally forget it unless I sprain the same toe again in a day or two. That really hurts. That’s when I take a few tylenol. I never tell anyone though. Big giant guys don’t make scenes about little tiny toes.

But I didn’t stub the little toe on the right foot again. No, I stubbed the little toe on the left foot this time. It was dark, in the bedroom, she was asleep, I let out a muffled curse and kept walking. Hobbled into the bathroom for a couple Tylenol then wandered out into the living room and sat down waited for the throbbing to stop. It was four in the morning. Me in the dark room with a throbbing toe. The other toe chimed in. The tylenol took effect eventually and I gingerly made my way back to bed trying not to stub anything else. And now I’m back in the living room and the sun is pouring in and both toes are a beautiful shade of purple.

Ha.