Ow! My Effin Toe!

I've broken my little toe.

It hurts. It's taped up and swollen. My shoe feels weird. I'm a little limpy and I can't walk very fast. And I'm dumbfounded.

People, you know I'm a sleepwalker. I have been a sleepwalker my whole life. And I have done some freaky-ass things while sleepwalking. (Just a few weeks ago, in fact, I woke up in the morning with all the couch cushions in my bed. So apparently, I got up, went to the living room, deconstructed the couch, and brought it all into the bed with T and I--without waking him up--something that would have taken several trips to do.) And I have bruised myself a few times. But I have never broken a bone.

Apparently, I'm a better walker in my sleep than in my waking hours.

I was just walking, not running, not impaired, not carrying anything, not in a hurry, not distracted. Just walking. And I kicked a chest at the foot of our bed. Kicked it so hard T, who was several paces behind me, said "What was that? It sounded like a chicken bone snapping."

And I thought to myself, "Yeah, it did sound like a chicken bone snapping. I wonder if I broke my toe?" But I thought that couldn't be possible. It didn't hurt.

Not right then, at least.

When I did it, and for about the first 3 minutes after, I didn't even feel my toe at all. And then it all hit me at once.

So, here's my advice for you today. Don't kick brass-cornered chests with your little toe. Sorry. That's really all the wisdom I can manage right now. My toe hurts.