Et tu, belté?
Late last night, I was gathering up my laundry for today's weekly visit to the family laundromat.
As I was headed for the bathroom to get the underwear and night clothes, my left foot landed squarely on the upturned {needle?, prong?} of my belt, still looped in the previous day's pants. Apparently similar to stabbing victims, at first I was more "hmmm!" than "yeow!" until I pulled it out.
A tissue was the first responder, then I MacGyvered a paper towel held together by packing tape to serve as a band-aid while I slept.
While my foot is still sore today, I am now walking around as if my left foot is in an imaginary high-heel shoe, which creates all-too-real pain in the ball of my foot.
As I was headed for the bathroom to get the underwear and night clothes, my left foot landed squarely on the upturned {needle?, prong?} of my belt, still looped in the previous day's pants. Apparently similar to stabbing victims, at first I was more "hmmm!" than "yeow!" until I pulled it out.
A tissue was the first responder, then I MacGyvered a paper towel held together by packing tape to serve as a band-aid while I slept.
While my foot is still sore today, I am now walking around as if my left foot is in an imaginary high-heel shoe, which creates all-too-real pain in the ball of my foot.