Day 339: I Suffer an Injury Whilst Tending to the Natives

In the 339 days of observation that I have conducted over the past several months, I have managed to escape, albeit narrowly, the jaws of injury whilst tending to the natives needs, entertaining their curiousities and thwarting any ill-intentioned efforts.  Today, however, that long-standing record has come to an end.

The injury was, for all intents and purposes, stupid in nature.  The event happened following the morning meal, Tuesday having finished ahead of her younger sibling who was still fastened into her adjustable seating apparatus at the communal eating surface.  Immediately upon noticing her sister departing from her place setting at the communal eating surface, Wednesday began to clamor to be released from the confines of her seat as well.  Neither had truly completed their meals, however, being satisfied with what they did consume, I obliged their request.

Here is where the accident happened.

I cleaned up Wednesday, who had bits of scrambled egg pretty much all over her face, hands and nighttime clothing.  I then proceeded to take her into the tribal living area to continue interaction with her elder sibling.  I placed her down on the floor and attempted to make my escape, not in any particular hurry, mind you, but with purpose to return to my labors for the day.

Now, to set the stage, I must describe the obstacle that was the cause of my calamity.  The tribal living area, except for some large pieces of furniture, is opened up to the remainder of the tribal abode.  One one end, as I have described previously, is a gate that is supposed to keep young natives from passing through.  Tuesday has managed to learn how the gate works and operate it flawlessly.  Hence, the horseshoe-shaped lock that holds the gate closed.  On the other end, being that there are no walls to attach a similar gate, makeshift objects must be placed to deter young natives, particularly Wednesday, from gaining access to the rest of the tribal abode.  Currently there is a forty pound box of domestic feline litter in place that Wednesday cannot move and that Tuesday can hurdle, scale or otherwise pass without difficulty.

As one can imagine, the forty pound box of domestic feline litter was the cause of my injury.  In my swift, or rather not so swift, nor graceful, attempt to escape the tribal living area, I stumbled my right foot across the top of the box, landing on the toes of that foot.  I am assuming that the toe or toes on that foot are either broken or dislocated because the SNAP that I heard whence I landed on the box prompted significant discomfort in that area.  I quickly removed my foot from the box and began to utter colorful metaphors, but quickly remembered the little ears of the natives in my vicinity.  Groaning and holding back every nasty exclamation that came to mind, I regained my composure and took a quick look at the foot in question.  No swelling, no bleeding, though one toe appears to be cocked to the right a bit more than it should.

Since this embarrassing episode, I’ve made numerous trips in and out of the tribal living area, mostly to reprimand Wednesday after she employed her “flail and scatter” method of house cleaning upon the chest that serves as a beverage surface in the tribal living area.  Currently, the two natives are interacting without conflict, much to my relief.  As for my foot, it throbs.  I continue to hobble around the abode on my heel on that foot so as not to injure the foot further.

Just another manic Monday….

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