Ouch!

If I could have written this title with three syllables, I would have.  I was outside this morning and my dog was highly excited.   I saw behind some vehicles parked across the street that Milo, our neighbor's dog was outside and understood what the reason was.   Our dog loves playing with Milo.

I let Matisse off-leash and was talking with my neighbor for a few minutes when a car came down the street and I went out in the road to make sure the car passed safely what with our two excited dogs running around in their yard.

It was then that I realized the street was hot, and I mean hot on my bare feet.   I stepped quickly to get back to my yard and did so in the traditional clumsy way I lead most of my life and tore my toe on the macadam.   I took the dog in, not mentioning to my neighbor that I realized I'd injured myself on the way because I'd looked down and saw blood pouring out of my big toe.

I quickly came in, walking without putting pressure on the toe and found my husband getting dressed in the bathroom.   There was a large flap roughly torn back from my toe.   He rushed in with a bandaid while I cleaned it and applied some bactine and polysporin,   I wrapped it tightly in the bandage, hoping to lay the flap back down and encourage primary healing by keeping it in place.

It hurts now.  Badly.   It's one of those wounds that are completely unaccepting of any pressure or touch with even the most light of brushes making the constant aching in my foot spike to intense pain.   I don't injure myself often, unlike my daughter, who is always bumping and scraping herself.  I don't know how she does it.

Two Rude Children:  My children are at Nana and Papa's house for the weekend, but they almost didn't go this afternoon due to behavior.   Just before leaving, their friends came to the door and they wanted to run outside and play.   We would have been fine with the mess they'd left inside and the rash decisions they were making if they hadn't been insulting and rude in the process.  I followed my daughter outside to bring her glasses since she'd taken hers off and needed a pair to wair for safety.   She didn't want to come pick a pair of glasses from me and my son didn't want to take responsibility for letting the dog out.   My daughter called me stupid, loudly, and my son called me an idiot.   They could have been respectful and again, things would have been fine, but they ended up having to come back inside and clean up, followed by making a sincere apology to me for their language.   They were very sincere because their weekend fun was about to be cancelled, said their father.   That was a lot of leverage.   They screamed and bellowed and protested at first but we ignored them.   I told my daughter I loved her too much to argue with her when she was unrelenting in demanding why she had to clean up her room because she didn't make the mess.  It's your room, I told her.   You have to clean it up, even if you let your brother make the whole mess (which I don't think he did). He was busy cleaning his room up anyway and wasn't available to help.     They left happy, thank goodness.  No one wanted to cancel their weekend's fun.