One Saturday morning a few weeks ago I was walking to the front door when suddenly my foot hurt really, really bad. Maybe I stepped on a thumb tack? I looked down and didn't see anything. Pulling off my sock, there was a piece of wood sticking out of my foot. Hmm... looking down at the floor there was a pretty gnarly chunk of wood missing. Figuring that I just had caught a piece of it, I started to try to pull the splinter out when C came over and saw me bleeding everywhere. She was smart and grabbed the tweezers to pull it out. While I whimpered like a little girl (who, me?) she had to use two hands to pull that bad boy out. Here it is in all its glory.
Apparently there isn't much important in the bottom of your foot, so after a day of keeping it up I was able to walk around again. So life's good now, besides the paralyzing fear that the floor will strike again and hit an artery next time.