Well, basically, while I was doing the Wednesday Night Indoctrination (which may be moved to Thursday Night next year) I--no, that's too in media res. So, anyway. Monday, I managed to give myself a blister between my baby toe and my second toe, due to trapped sand while walking on the beach. Now, this is not an unusual event for me--my baby and second toes are on sidways (I have slightly weird-shaped feet: my middle two toes are also longer than my big toe, which makes buying climbing shoes a pain in the butt)--and Uncle Jim Macdonald kindly taped up my toe for me so I could walk on it without pain.
Well, the tape came off, and before I got around to replacing it, I was, as one does, performing my ceremonial functions (barefoot and in pajamas: must get slippers for next year) when I absentmindedly pivoted on my left foot.
And the blister tore.
Well, at the time, I was not yet aware that the blister had torn, so I thought I had stubbed the toe. And my autonomous nervous system sensibly attempted to remove my left foot from the surface that was causing it so much pain, which is to say the carpet in the Nantucket room. Of course, at this point, since I was pivoting on my left foot, all my weight was on it.
Cue hopping, sideways-flailing dance of attempting not to fall over, fall on anybody, or hit them on the head with the Book that was in my hand at the time.
I regained my balance, started to turn the page, and realized that my foot still really hurt. So I looked at it and saw the blood.
Cue Uncle Jim to the rescue again. (He is an EMT in his Secrit Other Life, and an exceptionally good one.) Anyway, he checked the wound, removed the skin flap, and dressed it for me, and the indoctrination proceeded with my foot propped on a chair and the Book being carried around by helpers.
It's all good. Or, you know, in hindsight? Pretty funny....
(Another version here. I confess to the whiskey, but really it was more of a limp than a stagger...)