Even Big Girls Get Owies

Last night I used a Menard's store credit that had been sitting in the basement for some time now. I did some big purchasing in March, and days after found the items on sale. I returned to get store credit for the price difference, and emerged with a $30. I finally found a use for that Menard's money: some larger pots for two of my beloved houseplants. A ficus, and little pine, "Tree's baby," are now spreading their roots in two comfortable new pots, and feeding off some fresh potting soil. I moved them outside, too. Those are happy plants, but I am NOT a happy woman. I was cleaning up, and I dropped a 8 inch clay pot on my right big toe. You'd think the world shattered.

Now, in my defense, I have an extremely high tolerance for pain. I don't need to remind you I've two natural childbirths, and my doctor has looked at my throat when I had an infection, and told me I "must have a extremely high pain tolerance." My doctor said, so I know it's true. LOL.

This stupid pot split in a million pieces, and I hopped on my left foot devastated. I called for Theo to get me a glass of wine immediately. First reaction? Weird huh? I haven't had a glass of wine since my birthday? Anyway, you know how when you hurt yourself the pain gradually subsides, or wains? Not this toe. It continued to throb for hours. I put it up, and iced it, and after crying harder than I cried during childbirth, I napped, only to wake up and find it still hurt like h-e-double-hockey-sticks.

Yeah, I wore make-up yesterday. This morning, I was brave enough to take the nailpolish off. Sometime during the night I had pinpointed the pain to be in the nail region, and thought I should get a closer look. Apparently, the pot chipped my freshly manicured nail, too. Small owie. Big pain.