Toe-ing the Line

As a teacher I learned about multiple intelligences; while some kids are super smart if they see something in picture form (visual) others 'get it' more if they can act out a lesson (kinesthetic).  As a HUGE nerd, I'm pretty well suited in most of the intelligences.  The critical exception to this rule is the elusive spacial intelligence; the ability to see how items can be connected in space.  If I see an open car trunk and a bunch of suitcases that are to fit inside, I start sweating and imagine luggage stacking like an out-of-control round of Tetrus, right before the scary wall closes in on the piles of colorful bricks.  Try as I may, I can not rationalize nor intellectualize the relative nature of shapes and matter in a distinct space.

My tendency to misjudge space was in full form just two weeks and two days ago when I stumbled to the bathroom at 4am in a sleepy stupor.  On the return trip to my bed I literally spaced out with regard to the limits of the space around me and proceeded to SLAM my right foot into a bookshelf that slants upward on the wall.  My baby toe went weeeee all the way to the other side of a wood slat and hence began the 'toe era' of my life.  Admittedly short, the toe era has been profound.  Until very recently all of my decisions pended the approval of my toe: will the toe mind if I stand up?  Will the toe be ok going out tonight?

My toe became the magic eight ball of my social and professional life.

Taped until this morning, my litter tater tot has made me very grateful for the other 9, healthy toes in my life.  It has also put me on high alert to other rogue pieces of furniture that may interfere with my late night stumbles and bumbles.  Makes me want to re-energize my whole 'simplify' goal of a few years ago.  If a life with fewer things means a life with fewer toe catastrophes, then it certainly is the life for me.