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