Sunday, February 3, 2013

I Wish I Wish I Were A Fish

   So anybody remember that old movie with Don Knotts, The Incredible Mr. Limpet? And he spent his time wishing he was a fish, and then he was one? Well, today I wished I was a fish, but not for the same reasons he did. My life doesn't suck that bad; I just wish I didn't have any feet at this moment.
   You see, this all started yesterday, when I was putting together my new media stand for all those old movies that I obviously watch. As I was putting together this media stand I would occasionally drop a screw, one of those nasty ones with a pointed end. I thought I had gathered up all the dropped screws, but later that night....
The culprit. 
   Yeah, the rouge screw found it's way into my foot. And as I jerked my foot away from the sharp pain, the screw pulled a big tear in the pad of my foot because it was stuck fast in the carpet. So I'm hobbling around the apartment tracking blood, and my daughter is freaking out because I'm bleeding and she thinks my foot is disgusting. Being the person that I am, I stop my hunt for a band-aid and start chasing her around with my bloody foot, because, ya'know, I'm mature like that. Don't judge, that shit was hilarious and why waste a bloody foot?
   After I am done with my daughter torment, I hunt down the band-aids, and they are all silver and sparkling because my daughter picks out all the band-aids in this house. I'm just thankful they weren't Hello Kitty. My cut foot is all blinged-out, but at least I'm not wearing some pink frou-frou crap. And I was done; I have a history of hurting my feet and a cut on the bottom is not the worst that I have done. I changed out the bloody band-aid for a clean one in the morning and thought nothing more of it.
   Until I had to stand on the biatch for 8 hours. The cut started throbbing like a sore tooth after a mere hour of standing, so I'm trying to elevate it on the cabinet under the checkstand and keep my weight off of it, and I'm limping around looking like a fool and I'm all sour but trying not to be because this mood isn't anybody's fault and no one deserves to suffer for my accident, but by the end of the day, I'm just done with my feet. I'm sure that eventually I would miss being mobile, but right now I just want to disown my foot. It's not mine; take it away. 


  1. Similiar moment. I was 13 with a family and my friend. We decided to venture down to the beach barefoot. Warm breeze, salty air. My toes touching grass and sand then BAM! Mountains and mountains of purple shiny objects jutting out of the ground. Being told I can eat these I brought a trusty bucket with me and started the trek down on to the beach to gather my treasures. I stop suddenly and look down. Ouch. My poor naked foot had a piece of shiny purple shell sticking out of it. Poor thing. I picked it out and with great determination I went barralling down to my task of filling up the bucket with purple creatures and anything else I could fine. Needless to say as I dragged my bloody feet back to camp a friend came to my rescue to help pull out the pretty pieces of color and cocooned my limbs in towels. I don't rememer eating my finding of the day but it didn't matter, I the beast brought back food for my kinsmen

    1. Haha! Hey, feeding your kinsmen is an important job :)