Bloody Foot

This is the fourth time, damn it. E kept calling me because Glenda's sister's car had broken down and Glenda needed a ride to the softball tournament tomorrow. They have to be there at 7:45. I said, "OK," then E called me back and I got the message through the computer. Instead of calling her back on the phone in here I had to go pee first, then got the kitchen phone and called her. Glenda doesn't need a ride. ( O)K, that's good. Hang up, then I can feel something sticky on the floor. I think, "Oh, what's that? Did I spill something?" No, it's blood all over the floor. I wrapped it up, but as I was wiping I was bleeding through and having to wipe as I went. At least there was none on the pale-grey-well-nigh-white carpeting that looks nice, but is, sadly cheapish and stains. I wrapped it in a wad of paper towels and put a sock on to hold it -- now I'm sitting with my foot on a museum newsletter in case I bleed through. This time I don't know what I hit my foot on.