Not the Break I Was Looking For

It's been almost a year, so I suppose I don't have all that much right to be surprised. I haven't made it a full twelve months without breaking or dislocating something since my freshman year of college. Eventually, my household sisters' response to seeing me in some kind of brace switched from "Oh no!" to "Now what?"

So, now what? I've broken another toe. The toe right next to the one I broke last February, actually. About a week and a half ago, Little Bear was helping me make supper when he decided to push something heavy off the edge of the counter -- and down onto my toes. Ouch. 

It's been sore and discolored, and I've been doing my best to convince myself that I just bruised it; ignore the problem and it'll go away, right? It hasn't improved at all, though, and it has the same unique bruise pattern--a solid, dark line-- that the last broken toe sported, so I have to admit that it's probably more than just bruised and should maybe be buddy-taped for a while. At the very least, I'll stay in flat boots and shoes for a couple of weeks. Heels shouldn't be much of a temptation for a bit anyway; we are supposed to get down to -20 tomorrow.

Fortunately it's a toe, and not something that actually deserves a trip to the doctor! Also fortunately, Little Bear isn't constantly trying to bite my toes this time around like he was last time this happened.