What? You don't run in corduroys at 3 am?

Did you see a crazy person running down Queen's Blvd last night around 3 a.m. wearing blue corduroy pants, a turquoise t-shirt, a long black rain coat, and crocs over bright red fuzzy socks, no makeup, and Ka-Razy hair?

That was me.

Why, oh, why would I be sprinting down the boulevard in randomly acquired clothing?

Because last night Peter said, "I think I'll play with the dog for a minute then go to bed. It's sooo late." Then he proceeded to knock his entire fingernail off by banging it into a doorjamb while rough housing.

Talk about a bloody mess. Literally.

Unfortunately, we are running a little low in the first aid department so I high tailed it out to the pharmacy by our building, which turned out to be closed, so I had to run (literally) to the Rite-Aid a few blocks away.

While I was running I encountered a woman walking the opposite direction of me. As I approached I noticed her expression became wild eyed and fearful.

Oh crap! I thought- is there something scary behind me? Then I realized- I was the scary looking thing.

I guess I'd be pretty frightened to if a crazy looking person was out for a run at 3 am and coming full force right at me.

(In my haste to get Peter some medical supplies I had exchanged my pajamas for the first articles of clothing I encountered in my dresser.)

I called a 24 hour clinic hot line and they said to go to the emergency room, but Peter, being the tough guy that he is, said his fix would hold it till morning, when we could go to the regular walk-in clinic. (Which turned out to be pretty fantastic- but I'll save that for another blog)

Turns out fingernails can be re-attached.

Kind of.

Who knew?