Wednesday, December 26, 2007

The Indestrucible Toe and Other Miscellany

My family spent all day today in a Mad Cleaning Frenzy. Now, you might think you've experienced a Mad Cleaning Frenzy before, but this one earned the gold medal. It involved taking apart my entire bed and my mother sitting on my bedroom floor looking at the solid wall of dust behind my bed and going, "Oh my God" for probably five solid minutes, which is kind of unusual for my mother. She was in the Army and knows some juicy stuff but generally her vocabulary's pretty clean.

It also involved me dropping a very heavy board on my big toe, yet not bruising it in the slightest. I think I'm going to name this toe the Indestructible Toe because it's the same one I smashed but good on the doorframe a few days before Durnhelm graduated, I remember that because I was telling Durnhelm about it during the graduation party and somebody walked up just as I was saying, "And then I'm like, 'Oh, look, there's blood all over my toe.' " Awkward. Yet despite the smashing and bloodiness and general grossness, my toenail didn't even fall off or anything.

Then my parents spent forever filling out this form thingy that involved them pretty much giving their whole life histories as well as answering about a million other questions. My dad didn't help because he kept being silly. For instance, in answer to "Why are you doing X?" (X shall remain unnamed for the time being) Dad typed, "It was Becky's idea and David does whatever Becky wants." Mom smacked him.

Tomorrow morning we have a Big Important Thing going on. It's the kind of thing I'd rather not blog but if you can spare a prayer or two I'd appreciate it.

1 comment:

Christian said...

Indestructible Toe? You know, I really wish I had an Indestructible Head. In the last few years I got really tall and now I find myself hitting my head on everything: corners of cabinets, hanging light fixtures, cement I-beams, etc. I also have a problem with other things hitting back: crowbars, massive chunks of dry-wall falling from the ceiling, snow shovels . . . it's no wonder I'm turning out to be so, er, special.