This morning, as I was getting Little Z ready for her second visitation at preschool, and getting ready to go to work at my new job and plan some curriculum (awesome!) I stepped on something. Something sharp. In the bathroom!
So, my foot was bleeding and the bandaides were downstairs and I was upstairs and we were in such a rush and - well, I just patched it up and went on our merry way.
But it hurt. It felt like there was something in my heel.
About four hours later, I was trying to figure it out but I could barely wrap my foot around my body enough to see what was going on, and then Little Z was crawling on my shoulders. I started wondering if I should go see the doctor? Surely having something stuck in your foot was reason enough? But I felt like such a woose. It was probably just a splinter. I finally convinced Little Z to try and take a nap- if only for the sake of my foot- and then I started digging in some horrible way with a needle, right into my heel, and wouldn't you know it? THERE WAS A BIG PIECE OF GLASS IN MY FOOT! Which I pulled out with some tweezers.
So, I guess there was some cause for concern.
My foot feels much better without the piece of glass stuck in it. I have no idea how the glass happened to be on my bathroom floor.
I'm a little embarrassed about the lame nature of this post. Most of my creative energy is going towards my new job, about which I am very excited.
Little Z actually asked me about my foot when I went and got her from her nap. I was surprised. What's this? Empathy? Herra Gud.