It's been darn hot here at the Kentucky homeplace, up in the high 90s, and a sweltering miserable time has been had by all. It's the kind of hot where ice melts before you get out of the drivethrough with your drink, marshmallows toast without a fire and it seems like a great time for those '80s sweatbands to make comeback.
My son, who is nice to me even when he doesn't want something, called me at 10 p.m. last night. He remembered that he forgot to put the air conditioner in my bedroom window and wondered if I needed him to come do it.
No, no, I protested. It's fine. Really. I'll just plug in another fan.
As I found out afterwards, he wanted to escape from wife and home for a short period of time and this was his excuse -- or so he said. He could have been lying.
Anyway, there we are at going on 11 p.m., setting the air conditioner into the window of my 1930s house. The metal storm window frame isn't made to support the weight of the unit, so we put a nice thick board in to support the air conditioner.
What neither of us thought about as he prepared to put the unit into place was that no one was holding the board. And yes, it tipped out of the window and straight onto the big toe of my naked right foot.
I uttered -- well, screamed -- a phrase one shouldn't say around her children. The pain was intense; the angled edge of the board had walloped right into the center of my toenail and lordy, it hurt. And kept on hurting.
My son, ever the chicken, was quick to point that that it really wasn't his fault, or mine, because we didn't expect the board to tip. True, and no, I don't blame him. However, being reminding we'd done something stupid didn't lessen the anguish at all.
After he went home, I used the home remedy of my childhood and soaked my foot in epsom salts. I took an OTC painkiller and found a pillow to prop my foot on when I slept.
So here's the situation today:
I slept like a baby in my wonderfully cool room. My toe isn't broken, I don't think, although it's swelled and purple. Shoes are a no-no, but at least it's flip-flop season.
And did I mention that I slept like a baby with that air conditioner running?
My son, who is nice to me even when he doesn't want something, called me at 10 p.m. last night. He remembered that he forgot to put the air conditioner in my bedroom window and wondered if I needed him to come do it.
No, no, I protested. It's fine. Really. I'll just plug in another fan.
As I found out afterwards, he wanted to escape from wife and home for a short period of time and this was his excuse -- or so he said. He could have been lying.
Anyway, there we are at going on 11 p.m., setting the air conditioner into the window of my 1930s house. The metal storm window frame isn't made to support the weight of the unit, so we put a nice thick board in to support the air conditioner.
What neither of us thought about as he prepared to put the unit into place was that no one was holding the board. And yes, it tipped out of the window and straight onto the big toe of my naked right foot.
I uttered -- well, screamed -- a phrase one shouldn't say around her children. The pain was intense; the angled edge of the board had walloped right into the center of my toenail and lordy, it hurt. And kept on hurting.
My son, ever the chicken, was quick to point that that it really wasn't his fault, or mine, because we didn't expect the board to tip. True, and no, I don't blame him. However, being reminding we'd done something stupid didn't lessen the anguish at all.
After he went home, I used the home remedy of my childhood and soaked my foot in epsom salts. I took an OTC painkiller and found a pillow to prop my foot on when I slept.
So here's the situation today:
I slept like a baby in my wonderfully cool room. My toe isn't broken, I don't think, although it's swelled and purple. Shoes are a no-no, but at least it's flip-flop season.
And did I mention that I slept like a baby with that air conditioner running?
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