It's the worst kind of injury . . .or at least my least favorite

If you know me, you know that I have a major phobia of nail injuries. Not just my own, but I can't stand other people's either. When Mila bit through Chef's finger nail last week, I almost vomited in my mouth. I think it goes back to my first lost toenail. I was hit by a pitch in the foot when I played softball in high school. It made my toenail turn smurf blue and then it eventually popped off. I remember being upset and having a hard time wearing shoes.

Well, I think it might happen again. Two days ago I pulled the door over my foot and stubbed my big toe. . .hard. Really hard. I remember cursing for about 5 minutes and then hobbling on my way. It wasn't until I realized that my big toe was still hurting at the end of the day AND that I couldn't wear high heels because it made my toe throb, that I thought it might be something bad. The only thing is that I can't see my nail because it's painted. I'm guessing that I wouldn't want to see it because my toe is now twice its normal size and the nail is very tender. I think it might come off, which frankly has me a little skeeved out. I'm worse with my own nail injuries than anyone else's. I've resigned myself that the name might go. UGH.

On a brighter note, we are only one dresser away from having most of the boxes unpacked. I've got to unpack the office supplies for the desk area, but other than that, it's looking nice. Pictures to come! Of all the things, I'm really looking forward to sleeping with Chef in a king size bed instead of the Full sized we have been relegated to the last few years.

Nearly there. . .