Hey, you. I need a toe truck.

You may have missed this breaking news story on CNN, but about an hour ago I began my sleepy Thursday morning with a devastating and thoroughly unanticipated life-threatening injury. I bumped the big toenail on my left foot as I slid into a fluffy memory foam slipper using slightly more velocity that usual and wound up in a scene from M*A*S*H*. It was a fucking BLOODBATH around here, people, and I had to wake Sam to wrap my toe in toilet paper and say nice things to me.

My toes run the world.

It was really only a matter of time. I guess it had been eight months or more since I smashed a perfectly innocent toenail into a table or chair and attempted to bleed to death. Last night at 8:15 as I was heading into the master bathroom for a wonderful hot shower, the base of Sam’s huge heavy chair in the study attacked the middle toenail on my right foot and smashed it to smithereens, resulting in an inordinate amount of blood due to I take Coumadin (a blood thinner) and simple injuries become a very big hoo-hah because my blood doesn’t clot. Welcome to THE GREAT TOEPOCALYPSE.