Let me tell you about the time I stepped on a nail. It was Friday, November 20, 2015. I remember the date because it was the night before moving day, the day I spent making dozens of trips from the house to some Relocubes on an injured foot.
I was walking to Walgreens when there was suddenly such a sharp pain in my foot that I started screaming. There was a thick nail sticking out of the bottom of my tennis shoe. It wouldn't budge. A couple of passers-by (in town for a wedding) came over and, thinking it looked like a screw, didn't want to pull it out. They sat with me for a long time while 911 tried to figure out where the alley between Street A and Street B along Avenue C was. I eventually got to the emergency room where they took an x-ray that showed the nail didn't hit any bones. The doctor offered to either give me anesthetic, cut off my shoe, and extract the nail, or just pull it out. "Yank it out," I said. At least I didn't need a tetanus shot, having had one three years earlier after another accident.
Why am I going over this ten years later? A neighbor had their roof replaced a few days ago, and here's what I picked up along their garage, which abuts my yard:
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| Nails from one side of a ~20 long garage. |
Lest you think this contractor left the nails because they were in my yard (not my neighbors'), the very reputable contractor I hired last year to replace some trim didn't sweep my yard for nails, either. Wanting to avoid stepping on another nail, I bought a $12 sweeper and picked up an entire can of nails after they left.
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| Now $17 with inflation, but cheaper and a lot more fun than an ER visit. Photo from a Home Depot customer review. |
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All the best Jan