Going Down, Dick Van Dyke style

So I am trying to plug in my dying laptop, print a much needed article for my Neruda paper, and the phone rings. Since I'm waiting for an important phone call--which would hopefully inform me that my car insurance would not be cancelled--I quickly turn from the printer and step toward my ringing phone and my foot lands right on the corner claw of my footstool. This claw is a nice iron post curling upward so, let me tell you it feels great. I of course lose my balance and fall flat on my face. Luckily it was my insurance agent on the phone, so that is all sorted out, though if I ever needed to cry to get sympathy this would have been the best timing. Now I have a lump on the sole of my foot, which is not making writing this paper any easier. Honestly, I'd rather be watching Diagnosis Murder.