I sprained my foot this evening. While I am naturally klutzy, Mr. Hag is at fault for leaving a case of beer in the back hallway. I came in from outside and tripped right over it. As you can imagine, I gave him hell because I've been bugging him for 3 days to put it away. He's still stalling. "I'll get to it." It's always "will", "could", or "might"; never "doing" or "did". I had to reschedule a business meeting. He needs to understand that I am the major breadwinner. If Mama can't work, no one gets anything. Plus, it hurts like hell. End of rant. Thanks for listening.