Hazardous Waste

I never thought taking out the trash could be so dangerous as it was last Tuesday. These things always seem to happen to me when home alone. Paul was at Joy & Dale's, at a barbeque which I could not go to because I had Troy's ballet class to play for and then the piano competition to attend.

So I got home around 9:45 and thought,"I'm gonna get the trash now so it'll be done before Paul gets home." Everything went harmlessly enough until I took the kitchen bag out of the can. It was heavy and over-filled so I set it down on the kitchen floor. I took a step and ended up stepping on the bottom of the bag. Next thing I knew, something really sharp had cut the inside of my big toe, deeply I might add, as most of my weight was on that foot at the moment of impact.

It was the worst pain since I broke my foot. My immediate, instinctual response: a yell that made the walls vibrate, lots of cussing, and bursting into tears as blood started dripping all over the kitchen floor.

I was freaking out, hopping to the bathroom to get a kleenex or 3 to staunch the flow. Poor Mouchie was very upset by my antics. Usually when I yell like that only when he pounces on me while I'm running up the stairs, an attempt at behavior modification. Every time you scratch me, I will cause you to lose some of your hearing. This time I had to reassure him that for once it wasn't about him, but he still looked like this:
I limped upstairs to my bathroom where the band-aids were, but it was nowhere near ready for that. I went through about 10 kleenexes. Every time I took my finger pressure off so I could get another one, it would start gushing again, leaving giant drops of blood (like 1" in diameter!) all over my bathroom floor, some of which landed on my pristine white bathmat, upsetting me further.

I was still cussing and wailing like a frustrated infant when Paul called about 15 minutes later. I tried to calm down so as not to alarm him unnecessarily, so I just told him the short version. By the time he got home it had finally stopped bleeding and I was able to cover it with a band-aid, but if I bent the toe a certain way or accidentally put any weight on it at all, it felt like a burning hot poker.

I am so sick of foot pain, and it doesn't help that this is the same foot I broke. I couldn't walk much until Saturday. Now, a week later, it is just starting to feel halfway healed. So much for getting in better shape for hiking in the Rockies next week. I am glad, though, that it happened last Tuesday and not tonight, so it should be almost normal by early next week.