Well, shits. I learned a life long lesson this past week. Throwing a purse that weighs a good five pounds, while angry, and trying to slam a door will cause nothing but a whole lot of pain. I almost ripped the end of my finger off. After a trip to the ER (where the on-call doctor would have rather treated a sheep with herpes than deal with me), a trip to my general practitioner who knows shit about hand wounds, and finally a trip to a hand surgeon (who I am still on the fence about), I was left with a cracked bone (yeah, not broken...cracked) and this:
|What the fuck nurse!? While your lanyard skills|
are very impressive, I am not a Freshman in college who needs to keep
my one key and ID card in check.
And let me just say, you can't drive with this soap-on-a-rope for shit! I mean I hit blinkers, lights, and windshield wiper settings I didn't even know I had. Looked like my car was having a damn seizure.
I finally got home. Where a gift from Amazon awaited.
|Guess who's sister got a matching pair?!|
That's right. I figured since my hand will be out of commission for awhile, I can keep my feet warm and clean the floor all at the same time...and so can you Megan. Get to steppin.
After that excitement wore off I realized that my finger was really starting to burn. So I took the splint off. And then it hit me...the crafty ass nurse dutifully fashioned my bandage into a:
The bird is the word,
Katie E. Eshelman