Why bother? (v.2)

I had a celebratory post planned for this week about how I had officially run out Official Excuses for not going to the gym. I am done business traveling, done gestating, done breastfeeding full-time, and done dealing with separation anxiety from two toddlers. Yes, the plantar fasciitis has been an issue, but I stick to weights and the elliptical machine, so it has not been so bad. I was going to wax poetic on how lovely it is to drop the Double A's off at the nursery, where they are so very excited to just scamper off into the distance. I was going to talk about how sweet it has been to just soak up some tunes on the iPod and have 60 minutes of uninterrupted thinking.

Then.

Yes, you must have suspected there would be a "then". No?

I kicked our trash can a good 2 feet across our kitchen. Not on purpose, mind you. Oh no, but rather I did it because I am a klutz. The same bufoon who tripped in the kitchen just yesterday and fell on her knee. Also, I am Lazy Mom who left a rocking chair perched precariously on her couch (so the housecleaners could vacuum) and was watching her youngest progeny begin to pull it off of the couch. In my haste to grab the rocking chair, I totally ran into the trash can.

So. Now, I cannot walk without hobbling, I cannot bend my toe and said toe is turning a rather disturbing purple color. It also feels like the toe is "missing" or "disconnected" - a Phantom Toe, perhaps?? Dr. Google informs that even if the toe is broken, there is not much a Real Live In Person Insurance Accepting kinda doctor could do about it anyway.

I would take a picture for everyone to have fun diagnosing amongst yourselves, but as I have traded in pedicures in lieu of a housecleaning service, you would do well to thank me for sparing you the ugliness that is now officially known as my Left Middle Toe.