I was walking along barefooted inside our workshop. You're probably thinking that sounds unwise. You could be right. But it's usually pretty clean, I'm usually barefooted, and there's no terrible ending to this story.
My path took me about 2 feet in front of the long forks on a piece of machinery. I wasn't even close to cramming my toes into those forks — no danger whatsoever. But the very thought of the possibility sent that terrible, familiar feeling cruising through my legs and up my spine. You know the one.
Maybe it's because I walked right into a chair a couple of weeks ago, so my feet and my brain were keenly aware of that split second misery. And that wasn't my first rodeo. There's plenty of residual memory surrounding the toes.
Enough rambling about stubbed toes. I've got a point to make. We've all walked into the chair legs of life. We're familiar with the cringe that comes over us when we sense impending doom for ourselves, and especially for others.
I wasn't hired to write an advice column, but I'm handing it out today. On the path of life, watch where you're going, wear steel-toed boots when necessary, and you might take notes from those who have blazed some trails.