>Last year at this time, Amigo’s room was a mess and it wasn’t his fault. His closet had erupted, spewing old clothes and new clothes and toys and books and shoes and everything imaginable onto his floor. We called it the Night the Closet Vomited.
He had an old-fashioned closet — long shelf at the top, with a long pole underneath for hanging. Since Amigo is Joe Casual and owns few hanging clothes, all of the out-of-season coats and rarely-worn items ended up stored in his room. The shelf was loaded with games, toys, and Braille books. Last January, the closet pole decided it had had enough, and pulled itself out of the wall. The shelf followed.
Of course, this happened in the middle of the night. It was loud enough to wake me from a sound sleep (with my hearing aids out!) and scare the heck out of the rest of us. Husband saw the terrified rabbit run for shelter under the china cabinet, leaving a scent trail all the way. Did you know that rabbits, um, exude a certain flatulence when they’re scared? They do. Husband then ran into Amigo’s room, saw what had happened, probably swore, then comforted Amigo so he could fall back to sleep. Peanut remained under the china cabinet.
We gradually cleaned out the mess. The poor kid was tiptoeing around fallen detritus for months. I’m not kidding, it took us months to get it all stored properly or thrown out or set aside. Husband repainted the back wall of the closet, installed a stronger brace for future shelves, and re-built the whole thing in a more updated, practical style. I think he finished in May.
Perhaps I exaggerate, but not much. The rabbit came out from under the china cabinet eventually. We were so overloaded with life in general that we didn’t even get upset about this relatively minor disaster.
The Night the Closet Vomited is part of our family lore. At least it didn’t run a fever.

>I finally gave up the denial, admitted that my foot pain was getting worse and wasn’t going to go away, and visited our family doctor. She ordered an x-ray to make sure nothing was broken, but the symptoms and the location of the pain had pretty much given it away already. The x-ray, as suspected, showed nothing more than the tiny little screw from the bunion-fixer-upper seven years ago.
I see the podiatrist in ten days. The family doc predicts that I may be facing another surgery — the third on this foot.
Well, to look on the bright side, it’s my left foot. I can still drive. Both of our vehicles have automatic transmissions. Since Clutch + bad left foot = slow healing and more pain, the trade-in of my stick-shift Saturn SL2 was inevitable after my first surgery. Sniff. Sigh.
I hope that the foot doc will be able to handle this through less invasive means, but I won’t count on it. With my luck, she’ll want to operate sooner rather than later.
Hmmm…maybe I’ll need new shoes. Darn.