I broke my toe last evening. At least, I’m pretty sure I broke it. It’s swollen and purplish blue today. (It’s the 28th today…) I’m calling it a break mostly because I’ve never broken anything before (my heart not included) and it’s kind of exciting. I was walking toward the closet in Jett and Miller’s bedroom so I could put away some folded sheets when the wooden leg of Jett’s bed decided to crush my toe. I got that feeling deep in my torso that made me feel like barfing and passing out all at once. The kind of feeling you get when you injure digits or your funny bone. It’s a funny feeling but only because you can’t explain it and you only feel it when you hurt certain parts. I threw two ice cubes in a ziplock and dropped it on my toe as I folded clothes (always multi-tasking, can’t help it). So I’m a writer with a broken toe. It could be worse. Much worse. It could have been a typing finger.
The writing is going well. Gosh. Only two days left. I should be freaking out. I think I’m not because there’s just no time.
I need to write 6924 more words. Does the 30th count as a writing day? Anyone?
I hope so.
Tomorrow is my day off, but it’s not ‘off’. I have a long overdue hair appointment. My white roots have spread through my brown hair like yolk from a cracked head.
Just moving forward.
I will write.
How goes it for you?