Here I am feeling sorry for myself because I reached up to shelf earlier tonight and knocked a spray paint can down onto my bare foot. Hurt like a sunovabitch, made a little round purple mark, but nothin's broke.
So you win. Sorry. I'm still gonna cry a little bit, because I just know I'm gonna stub that foot in the dark tonight. Just
has to happen!
But shut up about being out for good. Talk about "*******!" (It was there, had to take the swing.)
Teaching-story time:
My ex-father-in-law dumped his bike in Tennessee when he pulled into a driveway to turn around. He went to put his foot down, and it was one of those driveways with a V slope to allow a shallow ditch to drain across it. Front wheel was up one side of the V and the rear wheel the other, so when he went to put his foot down, it didn't reach, and over it went. Trapped his leg under the pipes (he's a cruiser moron) and cooked a section pretty good, and broke his collarbone. The handlebars got bent way to one side, which he said was good; his bad arm didn't have to reach as far. His friend helped him lift it and he rode anbother 40 miles to reach the hotel. He was 75 at the time.
The foot will heal, and maybe you'll feel the rain coming (if you don't already - hell,
I feel it most of the time, and I'm only 55, and never broke anything,) but you'll be back at it before you know it.
