My toes find the end table.
A muffled groan is all that can be heard. I don’t want to wake up my wife and daughter. My mouth still closed and I moan ‘ouch’. Why in the world was the end table sitting in the middle of the living room?
It would have made sense to run into it if we had been vacuuming or rearranging the furniture, decided to leave it all for the night, and went to bed. That would be logical. I could accept that and take this throbbing pain in stride. But we weren’t vacuuming or rearranging anything. So why was it there? Continue reading “My Toes Found Trouble”