After posting about what  a beautiful day it was yesterday, I decided that I had to get out of the house. I hurried to get ready and head downtown.

Showed, dressed, hair dried, make-up on, I decided to brush my teeth  on the way out of the house. Only I didn't have my shoes on yet and I tripped over the retaining wall in my bathroom. The little wall of tiles separates the shower area from the rest of the bathroom and it juts out into the middle of my rather small bathroom.

It was in this moment, that everything went downhill. It went south <em>fast</em>. I caught my little toe--my pinkie toe--on the corner. I went forward, it did not. Insert, sharp shooting pain here.

I thought: Oh, I've just stubbed it. Everything's okay.  I sat on my bed for a minute.

Still determined to go downtown, I put on my shoes. Only my left foot was having none of it. Uh-oh.

Not good. Not good. Not good.

Stupid toe. <!--more-->

This was when my plans changed. I traded in shopping, ibuprofen and ice. Rather than an art gallery, music videos. Instead of coffee in a cafe, cold coffee at my kitchen table with a stack of student papers.

Humpf.

I thought maybe it would pass. It did not. I spent the rest of the afternoon on my couch grading. I needed to do it. But it wasn't how I'd imagined my Saturday.

Saturday evening I'd booked my babysitting skills.  There are two teachers at school M. &amp; J. with two boys ages 3 and 5 and all year, I've been telling them that I'd be happy to babysit. We'd worked out the plan last week and I wasn't about to back out on them.

I also wasn't fully convinced that I'd broken my toe until I decided to walk to campus. The walk confirmed the worst. Every step hurt. So I walk-hobbled to the bus stop rather than all the way to campus.

M. &amp; J. went out for Indian food and left me with the boys. We ate soup with meatballs for dinner.  Watched Dora the Explorer and played with trains. Then I played 3.5 games of Go Fish. I won two games and I am happy to report that my 5 year-old opponent didn't cry when he lost.

After this, I pulled out Uno which in my mind is hands down one of the world's best card games. I taught the boys how to play. They were pretty good at it. But in standard, five and three year-old fashion they didn't totally get the rules. The 5 year-old kept being bummed out when his bother gave me +2 and +4 cards and not him. Normally, you don't want these cards because you're trying to be the first one to play all of your cards but there was no reasoning with this 5 year-old.

Anyhow, it didn't matter much. He kept telling me: I love this game so much. I'd really, really like to have a copy. I told him: I'll tell your mom and dad. He said: But what if they don't know how to play? Me: I'll teach them. Him: Okay.

Boys went to bed. I watched Glee and graded papers. M. &amp; J. were back from dinner by 11pm and incredibly grateful. They apparently hadn't been on a parents only date in a long, long time. It's funny how it was no big deal for me to come and watch the kids for an evening and a big deal for them.

Then I woke up this morning ready to start the day. I tired to jump out of bed. <em>Um</em>. Not good.

My toe is black and blue. I's clearly broken. Broken. Broken.

So I did what anyone in my position would do. Made a big pot of coffee, a half batch of scones and took two ibuprofen.