Pain-Induced Brevity

I know that I said I’d write about the new class I’m taking, and how college these days is entirely different than it was…well…quite a long while ago, and I do hate to back out of a promise, but the simple fact is that I managed to somehow (with great skill, I’m sure) catch my thumbnail on the corner of my desk at work this afternoon, as I went whipping by (because I seldom mosey anywhere at work, when I can get around by whipping quickly), and I ripped my thumbnail almost plum off.

Until there was blood.

And maybe it’s not really almost the whole thumbnail that’s missing, because I might have exaggerated a tiny bit, but it’s a fair chunk of thumbnail that’s officially vanished from the tip of my thumb, and a hefty portion of thumb meat went with it. (Shudder.)

I had to dig into the first aid kit at the church office, which is actually a case for a handgun that does not really contain a handgun, but instead…band aids! And antiseptic! And little packets of Tylenol! And don’t ask me why we use a gun case to house our medical supplies; we just do. But it does look rather intimidating when you heft it out of the drawer and thump it down onto the counter.

Suffice it to say that my best typing hand is short one digit.

I know, I know. It’s just the THUMB. And what good is a thumb on a keyboard anyway, except to smack the space bar down time and time again, so shouldn’t I really be able to carry on with my normal typing duties with no apparent problems?

In a perfect world, the answer would be yes.

But the ripped and missing thumbnail met the computer keyboard, and they had a little love child together, whose name is Pain.

Plus, the boy and I are stepping out tonight to the cinema with some friends, while Hubs heads off to his Bible study, because we love the bags of butter with popcorn floating on top. Well, actually it’s me who loves the bags of butter with bits of uncontrolled popcorn bobbing around, treading butter. The boy simply loves the sugar. He’ll step up to the concession stand and say, in his sweet little voice, “I would like a bag of sugar, please.”

Clearly, our new year’s resolutions did not include studying the menus at the theater and making the wisest food choices possible.

The end.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *