But, in the mornings when Macy wants her walk, I'm groggy.
And nobody sees me doing this anyhow. Everybody's at work.
So...I walk with my eyes as tiny little slits, figuring that if something big comes upon us, Macy will let me know.
I follow behind her, blindly somewhat. It's not really intentional; it just kind of happens when you're sleepy and your dog is enthusiastic.
And I wear flip-flops because they're the easiest things to slide into.
But two weeks ago, I stubbed my big toe. It would have happened even if I wasn't groggy, I think, because I had stubbed it several times before at the exact same location.
Just before we turn at a stop sign, Macy I walk over this slab of concrete that has been elevated by the roots of a big oak tree. It's about 4 inches higher than the concrete slab it adjoins.
Most of the time, I'm lucky -- and pass over it unharmed. But on July 2nd--with great force--I slammed my left big toe directly into it. And the concrete refused to move.
The pain in my toe was so intense that I bent over in piercing agony, my jaws clenched, my lungs frozen, and my eyes squeezed shut. My mouth was silent from shock but the rest of my body was screaming and writhing.
I hobbled home that day -- and did so for the remainder of the week. And my left big toe, which was formerly longer than all the other toes, was now shorter than my second toe. Indeed, I had jammed it. A week and a half would pass before it finally returned to its original length.
I should have started wearing sneakers and pampering that left foot as much as possible, but I did not. Instead, I continued to run around. I continued to wear my flip-flops and go barefoot around the house and in the garage at band practice.
And so here I am today, two weeks later, with a discolored, somewhat swollen toe and an appointment with my doctor. Pray for me, dear reader, that it isn't broken.
