Coming up lame. On Saturday morning, as my wife was preparing to leave the house for a
class, I came down to send her off. Stepping from our carpeted living
room to our pargo'd dining room with my right foot, I started to slip
and stutter-stepped with my left to catch myself.
Well, I dragged my left foot across the metal strip that covers the
edge of the carpet, and caught a nail with the ball of it, ripping an
inch-long hole in my calloused sole. I said some unpleasant words,
and lifted up my foot to see where the crimson was starting to drip
Paula bandaged my foot, half-sympathetic, half-cursing that I had
disturbed her morning quiet time with this annoyance. I hobbled
through the rest of the day. “I hope this doesn't interfere with
our plans for tomorrow,” she worried/threatened.
Our plans for Sunday–the National Zoo. Walking. Lots.
Well, Sunday comes, and with a fresh bandage I'm off with the family
to DC for a day on foot. Zo‘ announces she has a bathroom emergency,
so as we pull into the Zoo, I drop Paula and Zoe and Jonah off at a
restroom. Kevin stays with me as we drive down to park in one of the
lower lots.
Well, unfortunately, there won't be any of that. As it turns out, on
this first day of springlike weather (67 degrees F on Leap Day is a
glorious thing), every freaking person in the Washington DC Metro area
has had the same freaking idea as us, and there are cars backed up to
kingdom come waiting for early birds to leave so they can park. We
end up driving out the bottom of the zoo and up the Quarry Road hill
to 18th Street, about a good mile and a click from the bathrooms we
dropped everyone else off at.
By the end of the day, I can't feel the hole in the bottom of my foot
any more. In fact, I can't feel my feet.
This morning, I peel off the bandage and find that what was once a
bloody mess now looks like the ruptured center of a giant blister.
Mmmm. Hope you all ate already. Anyway, that sucker is sure letting
me know it's there now. It's a good thing I'm shackled to my
Okay, back to the salt mines.


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