And This Little Piggy Said NOTHING

I like my feet. They are not bunion-y or mis-shapen. They are not foot model material. But, when you compare them with the rest of my body they are ranking up there as one of my finer attributes.
The thing I like about my feet is that they are bony. Consistently. Like my wrists. I cannot count on other areas of my body to boast skinniness like my feet can. And they take me places. So the fact that they are skinny and that they work really says a lot.
But something happened.
When I was cleaning my classroom, my five foot four aide and I decided to go ahead and move a desk that is larger than a refrigerator and weighs more than, well, me.
Because we were in a hurry and the desk was actually too heavy for us to move, she heaved the desk with her butt resulting in the desk slamming against my big toe. And the toe nail cracked. Across the middle of it.
And I am terrified to do anything about it. So it's just sitting there, painted with an extra 7 dollar French.
It's disgusting. I stare at it all of the time. I wonder what is going to happen to it. And no matter what I am doing I feel my thoughts somehow go wondering back to it.
Eating a sandwich... mmmm, this is good. My toe isn't though, it's cracked.
Laying in bed.... mmm, this feels great. I hope my toe crack doesn't snag on something and come tearing off. My toe is gross.
Watching TV. mmmm, I love Big Brother. Keesha has big ears. I bet her toe isn't cracked though.
I stare at it and wait for it to talk or fall off or at least hurt. But nada.
So now all I can do is pray that it stays intact long enough to make it to closed-toe shoe season.