Owie

I forgot one very important detail about my weekend (and Monday) of being clumsy and ugly and subpar. Saturday night I was getting ready for bed in the dark and I stepped on a doggy's tail, and said ferocious, malcontent doggy bit the ever loving shit out of my toe. I was bleeding and everything, and though it wasn't gushing it was most definitely dripping, and I think blood drippage (or, let's face it, minor welling, or even just trace redness) calls for screaming at the top of my lungs and crying, because that's exactly what I did. Followed by a dramatic heaving of self onto bed so as to avoid further bites from hell beast. (The hell beast is approximately 6 inches tall and has a mouth the size of a bottle cap.) Y'all, it hurt. And I couldn't even be mad at the little bastard dog because if someone stepped on my tail I'd damn sure bite them, too.