BUSTED TOE = GOOD EXCUSE FOR PILLS: Between editing stories and getting the August issue of the mag ready, we've been busy unpacking and arranging our new office space. The new HQ is in an historic old warehouse with high ceilings, exposed brick and duct work and polished concrete floors. Yesterday, we were trying to move a tall, heavy bookcase and because the old floors are a bit uneven, the bookcase rocked back onto my big toe. Since it was Friday, I was wearing my new Sketcher sandals. I thought the toe had just been pinched really hard, but then I saw the blood. Ouchy! I started screaming "workman's comp" as a joke. The whole thing was my fault. We have a strapping young intern who's been doing a lot of our moving and organizing and he was going to move the bookcase, but nooooooooooo...I was too impatient.
After cleaning and wrapping, the toe didn't really hurt that much. I came home and put my feet up, watched Casino Royale (Daniel Craig is a serious hunk o' man and makes a great James Bond) and went to bed early. This morning, I woke up and the tip of my toe is black and I noticed that the nail is cracked. It's very sore.
I was supposed to go to two parties tonight: Karen Head's birthday party and Karen Wurl's going away party as she moves off to the mid-west hinterland to continue her education. After attempting to put on several pairs of shoes, I gave up. I'm a gimp. Many apologies to both Karens for missing their shindigs.
I've taken a vicodin and soon everything is going to be right with the world. Pharmaceuticals rock. Just ask Paula Abdul.