Wednesday, March 2, 2011

This Little Piggy Cried

As I sat, having a wonderful conversation with my dearest mother, said dearest mother decided she wanted to go to bed. This was distressing, considering it was smack in the middle of a conversation and I deeply desired to know what her response was to my most recent statement. Disregarding my protestations, she turned off the lights and walked towards her bedroom door. All the while, I pleaded, "No, not yet, you have to answer me! Stop, just a second, wait!" Seeing my efforts to be futile, I decided to take it one literal step further. I got out of my most heavenly and comfortable chair and ran to stop her before she disappeared behind the dreaded door. Or, that was the idea, anyways.

Problem: the toy chest behind the chair intercepted my efforts. The lights being off, that space looked exactly the same as the empty space surrounding it. My pinky toe jammed into the corner of the toy box and I was catapulted to the floor below. Not sure if the tears streaming down my face were from laughing or pain, I attempted to determine if my toe was broken. The pulsing pain was enough to convince me that it was a very real possibility. After an unknown amount of time had passed, I decided to brave the pain and wiggle it the throbbing stub on the edge of my foot--nothing. Praise the heavens, this little piggy is still in one piece! Following this experience, I have absolutely zero desire to know what it feels like to actually break a bone.

(Skip to 5:38)

And to think I could have been spared had I been born 75 years in the future.

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