Glass Slipper=Bloody Footprint

Friday is usually the day I get to come home early to do my shopping, running around, and house-cleaning. This Friday was no different really, except that my husband was home for the afternoon as well. It's much harder to get any real cleaning done when he's home because he just lays around and watches tv, but I was determined to get our house spotless. In my efforts to pick up and straighten, I decided to rearrange the furniture-the heaviest furniture we own-in the bedroom. I thought this would be a nice change after 3 years of the same basic layout. While cleaning I was straining to listen for the UPS delivery man b/c we were expecting a package for Father's Day and I didn't want to miss the delivery and hunt down the package. Well, the doorbell rang and I took off running through the house trying to catch the door. Only one or two steps into my dead sprint I halted and yelled COMING!!!- because I couldn't get any further. There was a searing pain shooting up through my right foot, and I was trying not to yell profanities in case the delivery person was waiting. I hobbled as quickly as possible to the door to find no delivery person, but fortunately of all days he actually left the package on the doorstep (this is VERY rare at our house). I was thrilled, but still couldn't step down, so I picked up my foot and there was blood everywhere. I couldn't believe a little sticker could possibly create such a wound, and realized there was a quarter-inch piece of glass sticking out of my foot! I pulled it out, and here came the blood-gushing, dripping all over the porch and entryway to the house. Fortunately we have wood flooring instead of carpet. I tried to wipe the blood away and ended up with a hand full of it and more still coming out of my foot. The entry already looked like a violent attack had just happened, so I hopped into the kitchen, grabbed a handful of paper towels and tried to wipe up the new shoe of blood forming on my foot. I got it to slow down as much as I could, and hobbled back across the house to the bathroom where the first aid is located. After washing the wound thoroughly, I went for the antibiotic ointment and bandages. There was no ointment, so I hobbled back to the kitchen where I remembered an emergency first aid kit, no ointment there either. So I slapped on a bandage and went to cleaning the floors. I texted my husband who was gone during the whole fiasco and told him "don't freak out when you see all the blood." I've never had to clean so much blood before, it was pretty tough. I got most of the floor mopped up before he got home, but wasn't able to clean the porch. It really did look like something greusome had taken place-I'm just glad none of the neighbors came by, they probably would have called the law!