Whoops!

Flirtatious: "I don't care what other people say about your toes. I think they're beautiful."

Real Mood: Anti-Embarrassed

Prediction: Some day there will be a reality show about doctors who work on feet.

I refuse to be embarrassed about doing "stupid" things. I think we are all destined to perform some deeds that don't conform to what we might agree is good sense. And I think many (if not most) of the stupid actions we take come from reasonably logical starting points.

I know I've made it clear many times I'm no fan of plumbing. But we all know its a fairly lucrative life persuit. And for that reason I slip back into the trap of saying,   "Why should I pay that guy two hundred dollars an hour to come out here and fix something I can fix for nothing?"

Well we've been having some trouble with a toilet. Peggy and I disagree on what might be wrong with it. We even got on the Net and looked up some free toilet trouble shooting sites. It's leaking and I think it's the wax ring, and peggy thinks its the little chain valve in the tank. 

Anyway, we go get replacement part kits. We pretty much get the whole thing taken apart when we come upon an equipment crisis. We've got this big old nut that needs unscrewing that is bigger than any of the wrenches we brought into the house. So I volunteer to make the trek out to the cluttered garage in search of the biggest pipe wrench I can find.  Well, here goes.

I open the door to the garage and to my delight I espy the wrench on a wall dead ahead. In my glee over the knowledge that my search will be a short one I forget something.  I forget the two steps between me and the garage floor. Stepping off into thin air I imagine in retrospect to resemble uknowingly stepping into a bottomless chasm. However, a clear difference is that this garage clearly has a bottom.  And it's a bottom made of concrete.

When my right foot hits that concrete it does so at an angle that sends my whole body in a direction perpendicular to the desired wrench, and parallel to the concrete floor. It (the wrench) is going to have to wait a while to be retrieved and employed. I am now prone on the concrete floor and wondering if I should move. I survey my entire torso and it's looking pretty good until I get to that right foot. It's all here but something's funny.   

If there are beauty contests for feet?  I will never be recruited to compete. My toes look a little like they've been bound from birth. They all curl in towards each other like they are huddling up for mutual protection. And that's why it's clear something is wrong. My baby toe on that right foot is attached but pointing in the opposite direction.  Surely this is not normal.

What to do?  I know from football days there's not much you can do with a broken digit. But surely I can't just sit here on a Sunday with my baby toe sticking out in the wrong direction. As futile as I know it might be I instruct Peggy to take me to emergency.

Well, they do their triage and I think you can guess where I am on the priority list.

"Can you describe your pain on a scale from one to ten?"

I so wanted  to lie and say, "TEN." But the truth comes screaming out.

"ONE," I said.

So, sure I'm put in this room pretty quick. But I'm no dummy. The good news? This room has a TV set on a Sunday afternoon when there is a really good football game on. I get to watch the whole first half before they finally get to doing the xrays.

One of the techs says, "didn't you used to be on TV?"

This is another one of those questions you don't want to be too quick to answer. But I did.

"Yeah. Does this mean I get special attention?"

"No, but we might come back in and watch the second half with you."

Instead the Doc pops in with a revelation.

"You have a broken toe."

Duh! Someone pays him for this diagnosis?

"Sooo I guess then you will.....?"

"We'll pretty much do nothing. I'll send a nurse in to finish up some paper work and give a funny shoe to wear. See ya."

The nurse does tie my two toes together which is something Peggy and I both thought about doing at home. And next time I might. But you know what just dawned on me? I just got to sit back in a comfortable bed with my feet up watching a football game.  I could have been home plumbing. Maybe I wasn't so stupid afterall.