like having the wind knocked out

I hate Phoenix. My stupid resort hotel has this stupid, secluded hot tub tucked away in this stupid little alcove next to a stupid waterfall. And because this end of the stupid resort is pretty empty right now, this stupid hot tub has been unused and so inviting, and so I put on my stupid suit and flip flops and made my way up there late last night. It was like stupid rock climbing, I’m sure, if rock climbing is at all like climbing stairs made of rock in flip flops. And then, stupid!, I tripped myself and ended up stubbing my toe on the rock. But I kept on going and enjoyed a soak in the tub, all the while curious as to why my toe might still be throbbing. And then I got back to my stupid hotel room and looked at my toe. Ouch. Pain all night. Pain all day. No sock or shoe is comfortable, but my white flip flops don’t look too hot when worn with my black suit. Dang, Phoenix. You lure me in with your oranges and friends, and then you trip me with nature and laugh at my pain.