The Hidden Meaning Behind A Broken Toe

So, I broke my baby toe yesterday. I jammed it really hard on a doorframe. How do I know it is broken? Well, I don't, I can only assume it is since it is twice it's normal size, mostly purple/black and the popping crunch sound it made when it happened dropped me to my knees. Ok, I'm exaggerating a little bit...given the big belly, I couldn't drop to my knees...so instead, I just sat down and moaned for awhile. Saige said, "what just happened mommy?". How sweet of her to notice. So I spent the better part of yesterday going about my neurotic nesting, limping and complaining. I'm wondering if it is a sign that I should slow down a little and maybe put my feet up and relax? Easier said than done. Someone needs to do some studies on nesting. It's quite fascinating to step outside oneself and watch one clean/organize ridiculous things like coupon drawers as if they have no control over their actions. I mean really, why does a coupon drawer need wiping out? I really should be sleeping or have my feet up and eat moon pies. 5 days left...ouchie...bad contraction...what else can I clean today? Hmmm...endless possibilities.