I killed my toe this morning.
I was like five minutes away from walking out the door for work. I had left my large (very heavy and keyword =
unbudgible) toolbox out because I had done some little fix-it things around inside the house early this morning. (tightened doorknob on 2nd bedroom, etc.) I was headed to get my shoes and did not step high enough over the toolbox with my left foot. Yikes, I was immediately rolling around on the floor in my boxers, holding my foot, daring not to look at it because I was totally convinced I had knocked my toe completely off. Special words were spewing out of my mouth, some I did not realize I knew until then ... some were coined special words that I made up on the fly. The dogs immediately tried to rally around me to see if they could help. All I could do between rolling on the floor and continuing with my special words was tell Kelly and Kevin to please get back ...
and don't run off with my missing toe.
limped into work thirty minutes late ...