The very first day of our Caribbean honeymoon cruise I broke my toe on a $%^#!@ deck chair whilst trying to live out my "Love Boat" fantasy. (Really, Carnival? What do you expect when you've got 'em lined up with 2 inches between one another and lilly-white passengers stricken with sunstroke???) Alas, there was no Doc on hand in tight little white shorts to assist me and after grimacing in excruciating pain and hobbling back to our cabin, I spent the entire rest of the week thrusting my much maltreated (and pretty purple and yellow) injured appendage in front of my earnest groom, sighing mightily and bewailing "Mah TOWWWW!!! It huuurts!!! lookit mah towww!!*pout*" and begging for sympathy. Then he'd pat my little head, bring me some ice and an aspirin and refuse to fetch me a margarita because a) we had to pay out of pocket for booze; and b) he didn't trust my clumsy ass on a rocking ship with the spins. Which was logical.
Since I'm too inundated this week with yard work, knitting, and T-ball practice (the Monkey's first game is this Saturday!!!) to be bothered uploading any pics from Easter, or his birthday, or how great my patio garden is growing I bring you another sad saga of an injured toe, courtesy of Alice at Finslippy. Which is far funnier than my own. Reverse roles here: "I considered getting up and helping him out, but on the other hand the bed was warm" and you have my honeymoon in a nutshell. Also, the image of her son mourning the fate of his daddy's lost toenail brought a tear of laughter to my eye and reminded me of the scene in Fried Green Tomatoes where they have a funeral for Buddy Jr.'s lost arm.