youch

[fflo]

Busted my little toe (and whacked its neighbor, my next-to-littlest) last night on a bookcase. I asked at work for a better story I could tell about what I did, but no one has offered a suggestion yet, so I've only got the truth to tell you here today.

Last time I broke a toe it was dancing to "Love Shack" in the kitchen of what I call the Brady Bunch apartment (lingering 70s decor, including shag-ish carpet), in the queer little 500 block of E 41st St in Baltimore. It hurt, but at least I had the tale to tell, the image to suggest, of my exuberant abandon meeting the metal foot of the table.

Comments

OUCH!

[peteralway.livejournal.com]

Your toe was fractured by the immovable mass of the accumulated knowledge and wisdom of mankind.

Assuming there were books in the bookcase.

The bones of a mighty, once-proud denizen of the forest primeival smote your foot.

Assuming it was made of wood.

They say my great-grandfather broke his ankle in the Civil War absentmindedly trying to stop a rolling cannonball with his foot, trying to stop it like he would a baseball, neglecting the M part of F=MA, being two genrations removed from his first descendent to get a degree in physics. Blame it on a cannonball.

I saw a buffalo as I drove past Dominoes Farms on the way to Thursday Night's dulcimer meeting. Tell them that a buffalo stepped on it.

Re: OUCH!

[fflo.livejournal.com]

There were books in it, yes, and it's wood. I think I'll go with the cannonball over the buffalo---don't want to be injured by my familiar.