I went to reach around Tim the other day, and got a sudden sharp jabbing pain in my toe. I looked down at my bare feet and waggled my toes, unsure of what caused my discomfort.
Tim was also bare footed. This doesn't happen around our house a lot, because it is still cold outside. We're usually wearing socks, and/or slippers or moccasins or the like. This is why it escaped my notice up to that moment. These toenails were like bear claws. They probably could get him arrested for carrying a concealed weapon in 45 out of 50 states.
I rubbed my poor stabbed toe and proceeded to demand that he disarm (dis-toe nail?) himself immediately. At that very moment. I fetched the toenail clippers and a trash can to insure that he did not move on to another project and forget this vitally important thing. An oversight like that could result in my death. One false turn in bed, one slashed vein or artery, and I'd be bleeding to death in my sleep.
So he sat there clipping his toenails, laughing at me.
I just could not get over the length of these toenails.
He does not miss a thing. How could he not notice this?
I'll tell you what I noticed.
I noticed that all of his socks had developed holes in the toes.
I had been grumbling about their poor quality.
Socks are cheap enough to replace.
I suppose I should count my blessings.
Thank God that he wears steel toed boots.