See what I mean about dumb injuries?

From now on, I shall be called Grace, as in full of grace, as in one who is poised, as in one who watches where she is going and successfully avoids all environmental obstacles which leap into her path.
Yep, those weird injuries I was so paranoid about? Apparently that was a reasonable concern for me, as today I managed to earn another one. I was walking along, minding my own business at work today. I was talking to a patient and looking a her chart when all of the sudden out of nowhere, the treadmill jumped up and bit my foot. Keep in mind, I wasn't using the treadmill, nor was the patient, nor anyone else in the clinic. I'm firmly convinced that I was at least ten inches away from this pyschotic, diabolical death machine. (Those of you who hate the treadmill, feel free to plagiarize that phrase). If I wasn't the clinic director, I would probably have fired myself for the words which came out of my mouth immediately after the treadmill attacked me.
I was firmly convinced that the treadmill was at fault, but the accident reconstruction team (which consists of me and my three imaginary friends) has determined that the treadmill was actually not at fault. I figure what happened was that I cut the corner near it a little too close and managed to slip the toes of my left foot under the back corner of the treadmill deck, so that when I went to advance my left foot, I cracked the top of the foot against the underside of the deck...which is very sharp and pointy.
So pointy in fact, that it cut a lovely gash in my leather shoe and left me with a bruise that is roughly the shape of Idaho...or maybe it's Utah, I always get those two confused.