The Perfect Weekend. If You’ve Broken Your Toe and Landed on a Rock.

Late Friday night I walked into the pantry to put away (something?) and broke my toe on an errant barbell. That is. Someone (ahem!) left some weights sitting in the middle of the room where I ran up against one with the middle toe of my bare right foot. Much swearing ensued.

I took the entire next day (Saturday!) as a perfect opportunity to read in front of the fire.

Feeling a bit better today. (Sunday!)  I stuffed my toe and then the next foot into a very comfortable pair of shoes, and needing some fresh air took the dogs for a short walk.

It was a lovely walk. Sunny. Clear air. High sky. Beautiful day. Happy dogs.

Once at home, I kicked off my shoes. The dogs and I ventured through the house and out the back door. Now, daringly barefoot, I followed the dogs, walked onto the patio into the once again fresh air and directly landed with my bare left foot on an absurdly sharp, errant rock.

Much swearing ensued.

I hobbled into the house where I’ve been watching football and sitting in front of the fire ever since.

The perfect weekend.

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