And the hits just keep on coming.
Today, while carrying boxes of winter clothes out from the basement, the doorway attacked. It tore some skin off and hurt like crazy. It also bled like crazy. So of course, my first rational thought after, "OW! Freaking OW," and a long stream of expletives was, "Oh please don't bleed on the clothes. I don't need more wash to do."
My priorities, they're baffling. Then again, so too is the amount of laundry we produce.
The slashes are on my pointer and middle finger and the knuckles which made it impossible to use bandaids. So my left hand got festive by dressing up as a mummy. I used gauze over the bleeding mess and wrapped it with tape. I have photographic evidence of what a lousy job I did.
Later in the day, while food shopping, I pulled a little piece of skin from my ring finger. You all know where this is going. Itty bitty piece of skin = fountains of blood. It bled like MAD. Of course, I was in line to pay at the time. Of course I was. The only time something like that happens is when you have to interact with the general public. I hid my bloody stump of a hand and paid.
Picked the big kids up from dance, came home, started to unload the bloody groceries and the fridge door put up a fight. Long story short (I know. Too late), I got my same poor abused ring finger (still covered in blood by this point) caught in the fridge door.
I just have two things to say:
- Thank G-d I'm right handed
- Does anyone have a plastic bubble I can borrow?