Week before last, my dad fell in the bathroom and somehow in the process of getting him back on his feet, the toenail on his fourth toe got torn off. A minor injury. It hardly even bled. The toenail either will or won’t grow back, and no big deal either way. Friday, the little toe on my right foot had acted several times like it was snagging on the inside of my shoe, like it was too long and needed to be cut. I was in Lowe’s at the time, so I made a mental note to cut it and thought no more about it. When I woke up Friday evening, I’d forgotten about clipping toenails. Over the course of the evening, I decided to finish the book I was reading and by the time I did, it was after 9 a.m. As I was getting ready for bed, I felt a very minor discomfort on my right little toe, remembered I intended to cut the nail, looked down, and saw the tip of my little toe was bloody. The toenail was hanging on by just a little thread of dead cuticle. At some point, I’d torn the toenail off, but I haven’t a clue when, or how. I’ve punched holes in fingernails before, but this is the first nail, finger or toe, I’ve ever torn off. Ever. Cue Sting. . .