I can't quite fathom what I did. I was in bed last night, and Windy had been in bed with me, and he'd left the bone he was munching on on the bed when he jumped off. I tossed the bone onto the floor, and it didn't go where I meant, and I leaned over to grab it, and somehow I slipped and banged or caught my left foot on something. I had a flash of intense pain in my foot, and I fell over into my nightstand, dumping my cup of juice into the bed. For a minute, I was so busy being pissed off at the mess that I didn't really notice my foot, but I quickly realized that I'd done something really bad. I was fairly convinced that I'd broken the next-to-smallest toe on my left foot. At half an hour past midnight on Christmas night. I called the Carle Patient Advisory Nurse, who told me to elevate and ice my foot and to come in to see a doctor if it was still troubling me in a week. She didn't seem to believe that it was actually broken, but in any case, it wasn't sufficiently urgent to drag myself into the emergency room.
As of now, I have a very nasty looking bruise around the whole toe. Just sitting here, I don't have any pain; I have quite a nasty limp, but I can gimp around the house, so I guess we'll have to see how I do in the next few days. I'm less sure that I actually broke anything; the trouble seems to be located at a joint, so if I'm lucky I just managed the mother of all toe-jammings and I'll be all right in a few days.