So, get this. I went home over lunch to try and clean up around my apartment. My dad is coming to visit, and I know how he’ll complain if my dwelling is as messy as it has been lately. Everything’s going well, and I decide to take out the trash before I leave.
The way my building is set up is that it is one big building containing 8 units. the dumpster is off to the left side, which kinda sucks and makes me want to take the trash out less often than is required. It’s also kinda sketch over there. But I digress.
I was walking down the sidewalk over to the bare area where the dumpster is, carrying my box o trash and minding my own, when suddenly, I lose my step.
Now, I don’t know who is to blame—my balance, my box-packing skills, my ability to walk and do other things at the same time, gravity, or the stupidfuckingsidewalk.
I’ve decided to go with the stupidfuckingsidewalk.
Where was I? Oh yeah. I lose my step, along with my balance. My trash box hit the ground, peppering the ground with my trash bits. I hit the stupidfuckingsidewalk with my hand, but not before I braced myself with my right knee, which took the brunt of the fall. It was awful. I also expelled my frustration by making several grunt-like whimpering noises and eventually, crying.
I tore my knee up, and my big toe on my right foot got it pretty bad: The sidewalk (excuse me, the stupidfuckingsidewalk) + the force with which I fell tore the skin away from my toenail leaving me with a giant gaping hole at the top of my toe. Which hurts. It’s as bad as it sounds.
The mailman saw the whole thing.
I proceeded the only way I knew how: I cried a little to myself and felt sorry for me, and then I called my mother.