If you're going to have one leg, you've gotta be tough. But sometimes, even that has it's limits.
Currently, I'm back on just one leg for a few days as I wait for a blister that is interfering with my store-bought leg to go away. This means that I use crutches (slow, awkward) or I hop around on one foot. The latter is actually my preferred method for around the house and I'm quite good at it. It's faster and leaves my arms free to carry things that I cannot carry while using crutches. (It's amazing how adaptable you can get when circumstances force your hand.) Usually this works just fine, but on occasion, things happen to throw you a curve. Take yesterday.
There I am, hopping down to the basement to get a bag of wood pellets for the stove. I hop over to the pallet of pellets, toss a 40lb. bag of them on my shoulder, and start hopping back, only to feel something hard and sharp underfoot.
Did I mention that this only works if I'm barefoot? I can't do the hop thing with a shoe on.
So I feel the hard, sharp thing underfoot, and I'm hoping that is dislodges with the next hop or two, but it does not. In fact, it jabs harder with each bounce, and I realize that whatever it is, it's digging itself into the bottom of my foot more with each bounce. Joy. It took two bounces to figure this out, then two more to get to the steps where I could set the bag down and set ME down to re-assess. My luck, it's a piece of glass from a broken bottle out of the recycling tub. (Stupid green environmental crap..) And it's now embedded deep in the ball of my foot. Joyx2!
So I scuttle up the stairs, grab my handy-dandy folding knife off the back of the couch, and spend the next ten minutes trying to dig/pry/hack that chunk of glass out of the bottom of my own foot without anesthetic. (That came right after in the form of a large Bushmills, neat with an Abita Amber chaser.) Then I washed the foot, put a dressing on it, and hopped back down to get my wood pellets, lest Murphy and I get cold. But now I have a fair-sized hole in the bottom of my remaining foot. Good thing I just bought a fresh bottle of Bushmills last week. If you need me, I'll be on the couch, watching Dr. Who."Suck it up, Buttercup. My comfort was worth it."
It's times like this that I realize that I really could use a wood-fetcher/basement-cleaner/dog-smacker around the house. So if you're a smoking hot female interested in applying for the job, drop me a line. Applicants with their own French Maid attire and gun-cleaning experience will receive priority consideration.