OH HAI! I am back, I think. It’s been a hell of a time, has it not? Yes, it has been. Let’s not lie to ourselves. When I wasn’t in the hospital, I was drunk or going batshit, so now that everything has calmed down to a relatively normal rate, let’s talk about something vair vair important.
Let’s talk about how the cats tried to sever my toe.
Lemme s’plain. Okay. I (used to) have a gorgeous cafe table in my kitchen, which was never used for eating, because, hey, I have a couch, but it was wrought iron and had a thick glass top and it was beautiful, and made it seventeen eleventy moves across the country to finally settle in here in NJ. Soon after I moved here, I acquired two insane baby boy cats. You remember Finn and Toby? Of course you do. And you remember that they are Very Very Very Bad? Of course you do. So let’s recap. Glass top table. Two Very Bad Cats. Can you see where this is going?
SO! I’m coming in from smoking one morning and three things happen at the same time. I walk in (bare feet, natch) Toby SPROINGS off the table, and the glass comes crashing down. I try to catch this thing, which must weigh forty million pounds, and no, it slips through my tiny weak fingers and goes crashing down.
Onto my toe.
So the scene, if we were writing a play, would go like this:
MISS BANSHEE opens the door, enters the kitchen, spies TOBY on the table. She yells “NO, DON’T”
TOBY ignores MISS BANSHEE and catapults himself off the GLASS TABLE.
The GLASS TABLE smashes to the floor. MISS BANSHEE attempts to catch the glass, but fails as it is too heavy. The glass lands on her TOE.
MISS BANSHEE wails and curses as she is sure the toe is smashed to smithereens.
That’s how our play would go. But did the glass BREAK? It did not. Because it was too tough and evil to break. It just attempted to shatter my toe into a fine powder.
Later, my big strong 72 year old dad came over and we tried to troubleshoot the table problem. We eventually realized there was a crack in the foundation of the wrought iron, which caused the table to be unstable, which allowed the glass to fall down. We quickly hid the glass under my bed (like a serial killer would!) and he lugged the base of the table to my parents’ house, where I hope he does not use a soldering iron, because that would never end well.
And my toe still hurts.
Hey, I think I’m getting the hang of this writing thing again! GO ME!
(send a toe splint, please)
PS: Toby would like you to know that structural damage has nothing to do with him or his stupid face. Okay, maybe I made that last part up.