Things get broken

Yes, that's my foot.

Today was supposed to be the ending of "the major phase of combat operations," but much like still-President Bush, I declared victory rather too early. I was hoping to announce a working sink by this evening's blogcast. I started the day by making a checklist of remaining things to do in order to get the kitchen operational again—and there weren't too many: hook up all the dishwasher connections, put the 15" cabinet up on its feet, and the big item of the day—get the countertops cut. Now, Ikea keeps costs low by relying on you to do the work. Hence, they don't cut your countertops, but instead sell you length of butcher block (or at least, that's what we decided we wanted). One 8 foot length of 1.5 inch thick maple (or birch, or beech—I can't remember), and one 6 foot length of the same. About two and half feet wide. They're solid wood, not plywood or particle board, so they're insanely heavy. The eight foot board weighs well over a hundred pounds, maybe closer to two hundred.

I don't have a table saw, so I figured I'd take it up to Home Depot and have them cut it. The 8 foot board won't fit in the Jetta, of course, so I planned to rent the Home Depot truck ($19.99 for the first 75 minutes, and no need to fill up on gas). But when I got to Home Depot, it turned out their truck was broken—and I wanted this done today. When I got back to the car, I realized both back seats in the Jetta folded down. If I brought the front passenger seat down, too, could I fit the whole board in? It looked possible.

So when I got home, and my friend Jim happened to stop by, it seemed like a nice opportunity. And sure enough, my crazy plan worked—an eight foot board will fit into the Jetta. Sort of. We also loaded in the six foot board on top, and my guess is one of two things happened: 1) when we loaded the six foot board, the eight foot board shifted position, and moved up against the rear view mirror, or 2) when the truck closed, it pushed the eight foot board forward an inch or two, into the rear view mirror.  Either way, it was too much pressure, and the windshield cracked. Add the replacement windshield to the costs of doing your kitchen by yourself, or just blame Home Depot: I tried to do it the right way, and couldn't.

But the damage was already done (or at least that damage was already done), so I took the boards to Home Depot, unloaded them and took them to the lumber section. They had been weird and unfriendly when I'd ask them earlier if they could cut the countertop (I made it clear I was expecting to pay, not get the cutting for free), and after I waited about 15 minutes and an even more unfriendly guy came to cut my boards. We did the small board, and then the large—when unloading the big guy, though, it slipped and landed directly on my toes from about two and half feet up. It didn't fall flat, either, but with the edge, so all the weight was concentrated in about an inch and half space. I broke all my guitar playing finger nails trying to stop the board from falling, and the board, of course, broke my toes. So, I'm standing there, white with the pain, toes visibly bleeding, and the Home Depot guy just stares at me. No, "are you okay?" or "That looked painful." He just waited until I helped him put the board on the saw. A customer who had been waiting the whole time also just watched. It's strange—every time I've been loading or unloading something heavy in the parking lot, people have offered to help. Once inside the store, though, forget it.

I got everything into the car, but by the time I drove home it was pretty agonizing to press the pedals. I had Lilya take me to the walk-in clinic near our house. Which is now closed, and relocated to a new, extremely distant and poorly designed location on the outskirts of town. And in Urbana-Champaign, that's really saying something. Carle Clinic has now moved all of their facilities as far as possible from where I live. The new facility was experiencing all the joys of its first day of being open—including no working x-ray machines. The x-ray machines were back at the old clinic, so we drove back there, got x-rayed, drove back to the new clinic, and got the news about three hours after I first arrived at the clinic—two toes broken, not the really bad fracture (compound), but not the kind they like, either. The phalanges (the smallest part) in at least one toe are in multiple pieces, so I'll see an orthopedist next week. I will say that I got unusually good care, both friendly and capable. The tetanus shot was easily the most pain-free shot I've ever had. I gave them back their crutches in favor of the post-op "big shoe" that you've no doubt seen people wearing.

Broken things: windshield, fingernails, toes, pride, spirit. At least I'm reasonably sure tomorrow will not go this badly. And always wear closed toed shoes when lifting heavy items—even when it's over 95 degrees and hellishly humid.