Horrific Story of Personal Agony

Horrific story of personal agony.

Yesterday morning, picking up the pet food bowls, I managed somehow to snag my big toe in the cuff of my pantsleg. Maybe in another sixty years I'll learn how to walk.

I know, I know, wearing pants was my first mistake.

Falling down hard is an experience I've learned gets more dangerous as the decades pass, which lesson flashed through my mind, as I fell awkwardly, hitting on one knee, and crashing into a plastic dome pet house. To my astonishment, the pet house was soft enough that I did not injure my arm and did not even tear the pantsleg nor injure my knee!

But of course I couldn't get away clean. I must've really bent my toe, because it's still swollen and purple today. Really did a number on it. At least it's not broken; I can still walk. Would hate to stub it or have somebody step on it, though.

Pants should come with warning labels. I'm going to write my congressman about this. (Oh, wait, my congressman is a sensible person. I'll write your congressman.)