Last Day of Freedom

Hmm...

I spent the morning at the walk-in clinic. I broke a glass in the kitchen a couple of days ago, and I guess I didn't clean it up enough, because last night I stepped on a tiny sliver of glass.

Trying to get it out with tweezers, I broke it off, and there was still a little piece in there, bugging me when I stepped on it.

I tried soaking it, tried to get it out with a needle (like my mother used to torture me with when I got a splinter as a kid), but to no avail.

So, yeah, I sheepishly went to the clinic. After an hour in the waiting room (still better than the August 29th appointment which was the first time my regular doctor could see me), I went in.

Do any of you know how painful it is to get a shot of Lidocaine in the bottom of your foot? "A little burning sensation" my ass. I could not believe how much it hurt. I actually screamed a little scream. I

I was so embarrassed.

But, she needed to do that so she could use her BLADE and carve out the glass. It was pretty embedded in there, and it wasn't such a little sliver.

Weird though, it was bleeding and rather open after she was done, but she just handed me a band-aid without any cleaning when she was finished. She had already told me to walk around on my foot to make sure she got all of the glass out, so there was blood on the flip flop (sorry Torn) I was wearing too.

Anyway, when I got home, there were two birthday cards for me. One from my NYC friend, with a beautiful pair of earrings tucked into it, and one from someone I had never heard of. At least I didn't recognize the return address or the handwriting.

As soon as I opened up the envelope though, I had a pretty good guess.

I keep all my birthday cards slipped into the blinds above my kitchen sink. Let's see if you can guess which card it was , and from whom I received it (Torn, you already know).

I was touched this person went to the trouble of sending it to me. You already know who you are; thank you!