Fair warning: this is both unnecessary and moderately gross.

A week ago, I opened my freezer to get some ice. Apparently at some point in the past couple of months, I had put a bottle on top of my fridge just a smidge too close to the front, and every time I opened the freezer door, that bottle of creme de menthe was slowly, slowly coming closer to toppling. And this time, it finally came down.

As I watched this bottle fall, in stupidly slow motion, I realized that I had no shoes on, and being barefoot in a room full of broken glass would be a terrible way to spend my Sunday. So I reached out a foot and tried to slow it down.

This is what I tell myself now, at least, because it's a better reason for me to leave a foot in the way, or something. I caught the bottle with the big toe on my left foot.

No lie, it hurt a lot. I used roughly three languages worth of swears, then put a bag of ice on it and whined occasionally over the next week. The nail turned an unpleasant purple color, and I figured that would be that.

This evening I noticed that the front of the nail was leaking. Curious, I put my foot in my lap to take a look at it, craned my head down, and gingerly touched the top of the nail.

It... squirted at me. The top of my toenail turned into a squirt gun of week old blood and clear sticky shit. It squirted me IN MY FACE.

After I had washed four times and finished going "BLAAAAARG," I reflected that this must be what it's like to be a French woman in a horror film.

Now that the nailbed is empty, when I push down on the top of my toenail it makes a rodent-like squeaking noise. It's adorable smallness does not make up for the earlier disgust, but it's a step in the right direction.