Weed Whacking in Flip Flops

There was probably a warning label somewhere but I never read warning labels. Warning labels are for those idiots who don’t understand that an engine is hot or that you can’t drink Drano. So it caught up with me this week; after 11 years of weed whacking in flip flops I got whacked! It messed up my toes pretty good, but it just took off the skin and left the bones in place so that’s good.

Speaking of that I figured I could only laugh at myself for such a foolish thing. Not the wearing flip-flops foolish thing but the forgetting I am wearing flip-flops foolish thing. So I came up a few positive things about it:

- At least I won’t have to cut my toenails for a while!
- Well it certainly made me forget the other pain I had in that foot!
- Hmmm. Red toenail polish doesn’t look that bad on me!
- I wonder if I could get my other foot to match?
- Four toes on one foot is still better than one!
- My wife always told me my toes were way too long!
- Good thing I did it out on the grass because getting blood out of the concrete is tough!
- Now my shoes fit better!
- I wanted to buy a new set of flip-flops so this shredded, bloody one is a good excuse for getting new ones!
- Being light-headed is kinda cool!

There, now don’tcha just feel a LOT better!

We all do dumb things. We all do dumb things in front of people. The best you can do is laugh at it. They will laugh with you and then it’s done. Running and fighting ONLY prolongs the pain of your embarrassment. So laugh with me if you will, the pain fades faster than the embarrassment, and the prideful heart needs to be knocked down a few levels. Oh, and uh, don’t weed-whack in flip-flops.