Occasionally, it felt like there was a bindi digging into it. The rest of the time it just felt a little bruised.
Finally, just before the clock hit half past six, the curiosity and mild throbbing was killing me and I forced Miss DB to wait while I slipped off my shoes and examined my toe:
A staple lodged in my toe.
Miss DB was incredulous: "Couldn't you feel it???"
Me: I could, but it didn't feel like a staple!!!"
I mean, who knows exactly what a staple will feel like when it's lodged in their foot?
Unfortunately for me, my sense of touch might not have served me too well, but my memory certainly does. I remember the exact moment that staple would've snagged on my stocking, rotated, and found my toe:
Mid morning, shoes discarded to let my feet "breathe", I took a routine trip to the printer in my stockinged feet. OH&S SchmOH&S, I pooh pooh-ed the frequent warnings that circulate about workplace safety and threw caution into the wind.
Serves me damn straight right.
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