Wherein I Drop a Household Appliance On My Toe

February 27, 2014 · 1:18 pm

We got a new (used) dryer.  Our old one had a bad habit of chewing large holes in our clothing and took four to six hours to dry a load of laundry.  These indiscretions might have been overlooked, but the otherworldly sound it made was unforgivable.  Think of fingernails on a chalkboard, only the dryer is in the basement and this could be heard on the second floor of the house. So “fingernails on a chalkboard” on steroids for four hours. It had to go. We replaced it with a happy little dryer that makes a gentle hum as she works.  She can dry a load of laundry in just one cycle.  I love her.

The only way to get her where she needed to be was via the stairs from the garage to the basement.  They are treacherous and dark, and I’m pretty sure I recently saw them featured in a horror movie.  We persevered, in the name of peace and quiet and clothing without gaping holes torn from it, and started the difficult task of maneuvering her down said stairs.  Yohannes went first and I followed with the awkward job of trying to hold on to the smooth surface of a dryer from above.

Steps one and two were uneventful.  Step three was disaster.  Since I was having a hard time holding the dryer from above, I tried wedging myself into the stairwell beside her instead.  Somehow, as we tried to move from the second to the third step, the dryer slipped and landed on the tip of my big toe.  There was some yelling and some hopping around on one foot, but once I had calmed down a little, I tried to assess the situation.  I was at the top of the stairs with a partially mutilated foot.  Yohannes was halfway down the stairs, supporting the weight of a dryer.

Yohannes said that he was perfectly able to support the weight, and thus being assured that his death by dryer was not imminent, I decided to take off my shoe.  I was afraid of what I might find. Was the top of my toe mangled and bleeding, or had it been severed completely?

As it turned out, it was neither.  There was not a scratch or a bruise or any other sign of the horror that had just befallen it.  It wasn’t even red.  I put my shoe back on, and helped Yohannes carry the dryer the rest of the way to the basement.  My toe throbbed for a while, but was perfectly better by the next day.  Obviously I was relieved to be spared a trip to the ER, and possibly a partial amputation of my toe.  On the other hand, I can’t help but feel that the whole experience was a little bit anticlimactic.  My toe was fine.  How disappointing.


Disappointingly fine toes.


*During a conversation between Yohannes and me.*

Nati: “Awkward!”

Us: “What?”

Nati: “That’s what you say when people are talking about something that you don’t understand.”

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