Mama Duck

I woke up Sunday morning with Spontaneous Painful Toe Syndrome.

Two smallest toes, left foot. Saturday night, no pre-existing toe conditions. I go to bed, toes are good. I wake up and toes are unhappy - not very unhappy, they aren’t discolored or refusing to bear weight. Just really, really ow.

But I toughed it out.

Monday morning, the toes are still sore. They do not appreciate my shoes, but I don’t give them a choice. You have to be firm with toes, they can not be allowed to get the upper hand in your shoe choice. If you start letting them make decisions about footwear you’ll never get out of the crocs.

Monday was okay, a little limmpy but by the end of the day, the toes were back to normal. Then I went home and changed clothes. Yeah, stubbed the toes. I’m that good. The toes go back to normal, everything is good. The toes are happy. I have happy feet. Me and the penguins.

The feet and I are so happy that we don’t pay attention to where we are and we are running toe long into the ancient little black and white TV that has been sitting next to the futon since the futon came to live with me. I have never stubbed myself on it.

Until now.

There is nothing recently hurt toes need more than to be slammed into something. It’s really an answer to a prayer for them, a life long dream. And I am all about providing life long dreams to small toes.

When I think about it, I’ve been providing joy to that foot since last week when I ran my ankle into the bottom of my bathroom vanity! Another thing I have never done! My ankle wanted to experience the joy of being slammed into an immovable object and I did what I could to fulfil that dream.

Dogger is doing well. She’s been dry since the weekend and I think that I may not have to come home to check on her at lunch as often. Today, for instance, I’m going back to the bank to get another Fraud affidavit! Yay! I took care of all that I had collected thus far but got another one in the mean time and it’s going to need it’s own - good news is that it would only take one slot and I would have two free. I still need to go pick up a registered letter to the faux me and I’m pretty sure its not thanking her for being a good customer.

Next to the added exercise I’ve been getting from running Dogger outside approximately twenty three times every evening, Dogger and I have a new friend. A feral kitten has adopted Dogger. When we are outside, it follows Dogger like a baby duck. It head buts Doggers enormous head! The Kitty has never done that, swatted Doggers head, yes. Smacked Dogger around, yes. Sweetly head butted? Never.