Why you should wear shoes on an old deck...

Yes, this is why you should most DEFINATELY wear shoes. As a lover of barefoot-ness, I have always had trouble taking the time or incentive to put on my shoes, and as a result, I have often had to endure the occasional ant bite, but THIS time, it was much worse.
I had gone out to water my plants. Simple enough, right? I mean, I was only going to go on the deck, not actually go into the weeds...er, grass, so I didn't see why I would actually need my shoes, right? Yeah, this was the thinking BEFORE I tripped and RAMMED my foot into an old jagged portion that had separated from the rest of the board. I ripped a gash in the bottom of my foot and got a HUGE splinter through the bottom of my big toe. Once in the house (hobbling, of course), I managed to get the mangled wad of skin cut off of my foot (there was no way THAT was laying down again), and the big splinter out. I poured hydrogen peroxide over it all (WOW, did it bubble!), but I could tell I wasn't going to have the guts to dig out the rest of the wood still stuck in my foot (in little tiny pieces). So, off to the ER we go. First, to get a tetnus (it had been over ten years since mine. Oops.) Then to have it irrigated. This sounds so harmless, doesn't it? Yeah, I 'bout came up off the bed, when they "pressure washed" wood out of my cuts. Ow. To put it mildly. I have to admit, though. Even I was impressed with how many little slivers of wood floated around in the water. There was no way I would have EVER gotten that all out! But, alas, it wasn't over, yet. There was ONE piece still stuck in my toe that they just couldn't wash out, no matter how HARD they injected water into the hole in my foot. So, here comes the needle. My mother informed me that they would at least deaden it at the doctor before digging around in there, as opposed to having my husband try it. Wrong. They didn't. And again. Much Ow. He kept having to stop to wipe up the blood so he could see what he was doing again. (Ew) About fifteen minutes or so of this (it just WOULDN'T budge), and about the time I start to get really woozy and queasy, they do finally manage to get it out and me all bandaged up, sending me home with bright purple bandages and a prescription for antibiotics.

Ah, well, I'd been wondering what to do for a Friday night, huh? :)