A few days ago I was changing a light bulb when the old one slipped through my fingers, hit the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. I swept it up and wore shoes in that room for a few days. Wouldn't you know it, today I was walking through that room when lo and behold I stepped on a piece of glass. Fudge, fudge, fudge no matter how I put down my foot it hurt my boo-boo. So I hobbled over to my flashlight, then waddled over to my glasses then gimped over to the bathroom because it has good light. I contorted myself into a rather dodgy position to see the sole of my foot then shined the light on it. There on the heel was the offending piece of glass. Did I go get the tweezers? Nay. I am the woman who did half of her own root canal. I am the skydiver who jumps from airplanes. I am going to be a bad-ass and yank it out myself. So I started the ceremony of flicking it with my finger. Yeah, no, didn't work. Next I used the nails of my thumb and swear finger to pick the glass right out of the foot. After several failed attempts the shimmering, blood tipped shard slipped out easily, albeit rather maladroitly. I am the boss! I am the mouse who pulled the thorn from the lion's paw! I am the one who just dropped it back on the floor. Aw, crap. Here we go again. Daughter, hand me the broom.

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