Ever have one of those days that feels like things are going to get completely out of hand, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it? Yeah, today was one of those for me. Woke up a little later than usual, and was in a bit of a fog. That should have been all I needed to stay in bed. Sadly, I got up.

Wrong move.

My first thought? I need to get a post about writing to my friend Diana for her blog. I still had no idea what I was going to write about, and I had been putting it off for a bit. Okay, a long bit. An awfully long bit. Like over a month. Good thing she’s a very kind-hearted person. “I’ll get to it today,” I think, not trusting my own thoughts.

My next thought? Get the dogs from the bedroom to the backyard before they decide they can’t make it. Their whining had become urgent. I rushed to the front door, shut off the house alarm, and then bolted to the back of the house to let them out. Just in time. My terrier-mix, Chaya, was starting to squat. Not paying attention, I opened the door; right over my toe. Usually, I take the time to put on slippers when I get up, but, as I said, I was in a rush, so the toe was bare.

Side note: Behind our house is a walking path. It’s perfect for early morning dog-walkers, joggers, etc. Typically it’s a peaceful little stroll—I’ve walked it thousands of times—unless someone starts bellowing expletives at the top of their lungs. Yep. Me. Guilty as charged. I don’t swear much; hardly ever, in fact. But a door-meets-bare-toe incident kinda changes someone. If you happen to be one of those early morning perambulators, consider this my apology.

With my toe bleeding freely, I rush back to the bedroom—ok, hobble is more accurate—and grab half-a-box of Kleenex to stem the flow. (Now that I think about it, I could have just stuck my foot in the box.) Once the wound is no longer fatal, I wrap it in fifty-seven layers of gauze. Yes, I counted.

My toe now resembles a white grapefruit, but I’m fairly certain I will no longer die, so I head back to the kitchen to feed the dogs. My wife is already there making a cup of tea. She says nothing about my shouting, or my enormous bandage. She also does not inquire how my day is going so far. Smart woman. That’s why I married her.

I grab the bag of dog food and scoop some out, only to remember I had put the bowls in the dishwasher last night, and they’re still in there. “No problem,” I bravely decide, “I’ll just hold the scoop in one hand and grab the bowls from the dishwasher with the other.”

Yeah, that didn’t work so well. The first bowl I grabbed had somehow turned itself upside-down and was now filled with enough cloudy dishwasher water to fill an Olympic-sized pool. That’s when Chaya decides this would be the perfect time to test Dad’s bandaging skills and steps on the grapefruit-sized toe.

Another round of expletives. I’m not sure, but I think my wife might have giggled. Snickered, perhaps?

My body involuntarily twitches, and the bowl, the one that’s filled with cloudy dishwasher water, drops. Oh, and the scoop of dog food is now only a half scoop, maybe less. Do you know how fast dry dog food turns to mush when it gets wet? I don’t either. My watch only measures things in full seconds, not microseconds. Let’s just go with “fast, very fast.”

As I finish cleaning up the mess—no, Chaya did not help—I get a text. One of my author friends needs me to check something for her. I text back.

Give me five minutes. Need coffee first, then I’ll check.

I should have considered my reply before hitting send. So far this morning nothing has taken five minutes. Like I said, I needed coffee. Bad. Needless to say, it was three hours later before I was able to check. I had to clean a few windows first. No, you don’t want to know why. But, there is a silver lining. At least I figured out what I’m going to write about for this blog. Ready for my sage advice? You might want to write this one down.

One of the best habits I’ve ever developed is learning how to turn everyday situations into short stories. If you can put enough of those short stories together, someday you’ll have enough for a book.

When did I develop this habit? Today, while cleaning windows. Windows that hadn’t needed to be cleaned yesterday. But yesterday was a long, long time ago.

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