I broke a promise and now I'm paying for it

When Frank left for medical school I promised him I wouldn't step on any more splinters or thorns, because I had been, like the rest of the family, depending on him to remove them, and it was sort of a gesture to let him know I wasn't about to become the Problematic Parent (the one you have to take care of: the one we all turn into if we live long enough).

A couple of days ago, already late for work and rushing around to find my shoes, I stepped on a doozy. Practially a log. I was able to pull out most of it but the chunk that remains is large and jammed right under the thick callous on the ball of my foot and so far no amount of soaking and poking has gotten it out. I've had to drive to work which is a royal pain because parking is just this side of impossible and I didn't bother going to dancing (second week I missed -- last week was stomach cramps).

Tomorrow, I think I'm going to the doctor after work, because this is stupid.