So how the hell did I get a nail in my foot? Well, we have a mountain o' crap in the back of the garage. All sorts of angry boards and smelly carpet that had formerly been inside. Feeling ambitious, I was sorting through the mountain o' crap with a plan of carting some of it to the dump. And I made one wrong step onto one of the angry nailed boards. Chuck Taylor sneakers ain't no match for Mr. Pointy.
I hopped into the house which amused the two year old to no end. He hopped in after me. Quick call to the parents for help, because I knew I needed to get a shot before the dreaded LOCKJAW set in. You know, your dad warned you about LOCKJAW when you were a kid, too. Within seconds, your jaw would be sealed shut and you would have to survive on a liquid diet between the gaps of your teeth for the rest of your life.
The doctor had to remove the nail for me. I was thinking of all those Mel Gibson movies where he pulls out arrows from his torso himself after tossing back some liquid courage. Maybe if I had some of that liquid courage around, I could have done it.