Just What Is Going On?

Was fixing dinner - lifting the crockpot liner up to transfer the juices from the roast to the pan to make gravy.  Barely lifted above the crockpot and the bottom of the bag just opened, split completely across. Sending the couple cups of liquid cascading across the counter, the front of the cupboard & dishwasher, down the front of my apron, all over the fairly new rug and across the tile.  It was hot on my socks/sandals.  What a mess.

20 minutes later (after cleaning and cleaning), finally sitting down to a gravy-less roast I received a text from our son asking for advice.  He'd cut the tip of his pinky finger off.  Should he go to the dr.?  He'd used superglue to re-attach the tip (not the course I'd have chosen).  I told him what I'd do if it was me (head to the Insta-Care as soon as possible) which he apparently did.  They cleaned off the superglue (this wasn't the right situation for that), cleaned up the wound, threw the tip of the finger away, bandaged him up nice and neat and sent him on his way.

Then we heard from our daughter:  our grandson had been at work on Thursday and had some equipment fall on his foot.  The steel toe in his shoe kind of succeeded / failed (as far as I can tell from what I heard second hand).  The result is a broken toe and some lacerated skin.  Poor guy, broken toes really hurt.

I should own stock in bandages.....

This morning I headed out for my walk.  Was wearing some different shoes, my toe is just barely healing from last week's blister.  (I've always had trouble with blisters on my feet - my skin must be tender.  Or my feet super sweaty or the shoes aren't quite right.  I'll probably never know why my entire life has been filled with foot issues.)   I don't understand why my thus-far-perfectly-fine-shoes are causing blisters, but wanted to avoid further blisters, hence the different shoes.  Fifteen minutes into my walk I knew I was in trouble.  And here we are - another instance where The Husband is my most important treasure.  One phone call, five minutes later and he was there to pick me up in his trusty Charger.  I wasted no time pulling off my shoes and the protective athletic tape I always wear (I've learned it helps me avoid blisters most of the time).  Along with the tape came my skin.  The blisters had been that bad, and got that bad that fast.

Roughly 20 minutes after that I'm heading for yet another bandaid. I'd somehow (haven't a clue how) scraped my knuckle.  It, too, is missing some skin.

Just really pretty.

I think I just want to go back to bed.  Kinda-sorta-not-really.  Just befuddled.

And in spite of all that, it was a beautiful morning, down in the 60's (yay for some heat relief).  The sky was lovely and I was so happy that I managed to get in a bit over 7,000 steps before crying "uncle".

I'm grateful for aprons, they might be old-fashioned but they've saved more than one piece of clothing over the years. I'm grateful for someone that doesn't hesitate to help me, even when he's in the middle of breakfast.  I'm grateful for bandaids.  For readily available good medical care for all members of our family.  And for open-backed sandals I can wear while my feet heal.