There's a Touch Upon my Lips...

Last night I did the "Lego in the Dark" thing. 

Or the "plug socket when trying to get ready in a half dark room thing". 

Except I did it with a plastic fastener off a rucksack whilst trying to hit Si with a boomerang from the top of the stair and run away. 

I threw myself prostrate on the bed, and howled comically, trying desperately not to cry.  It was as much my fault for messing around as it was him leaving his bloody rucksack where it was.  He went and did his toilet, and I lay in bed, blinking back tears and wondering why the skin on the instep is so prone to this amount of pain. 

I was consciously pressing my other foot against it, to try and comfort the pain,and I realised that it was stuck to it.   When he came back from the loo, I begged for a plaster, and stitches, and a bandage. 

He said "It's a little scrape", but he stuck a blister plaster on it anyway, in order to shut me up and get into his side of the bed.

It's still so sore this morning, I have taken up smoking.  

Look - you still get little card inside.   They are no longer "sweetie cigarettes, but candy sticks".  I am still walking around like private investigator with one hanging out side of mouth.