When Glass Embeds in Your Foot

I am clumsy and absentminded. I did not see a glass on the edge of a counter and managed to knock it down with an elbow. I went into panic mode. I'm not sure if there is a broken glass phobia, but if there is one, I have it. Maybe I listen to too much Annie Lennox, but I'm always fearful that I will break glass, not clean it all up, and walk over it. When I was a kid, I had a plantar wart, but didn't know it at the time. I thought a million specks of glass were in my foot and I spent many hours trying to pick it out. One day this scab fell off and it confused me deeply. Where was the glass? I was obviously a dumb kid. When I was a teen, I got some stretch marks and was convinced Freddy Krueger scratched me up in the night.

Back to the story... I swept like a maniac. I got on my knees and peered over every spot in the floor. I even used our robot vacuum, Eve, to find anything I missed. I thought I was safe, but there was one tiny piece waiting for me.

You don't realize how much you need to walk in life until you're hobbling painfully around trying to be a janitor and waitress for your kids. I had tried an unsuccessful home medical procedure involving zealous needle action, a crappy flashlight, and a profuse amount of peroxide. I gave up and decided to walk around the mall with a piece of tiny glass in my foot because I'm that awesome.

When I came home, I did the procedure again. This time I added positive thinking to the process. It worked, but I was still left with the pain of the needle digs and the squeezing and the ankle contortions. I think walking around on glass has caused untold damage. I'm still hobbling. I'm still having to balance the custodial arts and food service. But the sun's still shining in the deep blue sky.