Last night we had a few friends over to talk about classical organ music and the tendons in your hands. No, seriously, we just had some people over who we hadn't seen in a while, and that's what they ended up talking about. There was also some drunken piano playing and an argument about keyboard size that ended with the tape measure being taken out. It's no end of fun over here.
It occurred to me this evening, as I was contemplating the unpleasant task of changing the dressing on my ruined stump of a finger (no, really, I'll be fine; they say they might be able to save the arm), that I haven't washed my left index finger in about a week.
...
I woke up at 5am today, not on purpose, but because my guts woke me up.
Guts: Hey, wake up. I gotta go.
Brain: What? Shut up. It's still dark out.
Guts: No, seriously, I gotta go.
Brain: What time is it?
Eyes: 5am. Would you please tell Guts to shut up?
Brain: Guts, it's 5am. Shut up and go back to sleep. You can wait another hour.
Guts: Can't. Gotta go NOW.
Brain: Aw, fuck. Feets, do your duty.
body shuffles to bathroom in darkness
Brain: Happy now?
Guts: Just five more minutes.
Brain: No. Five minutes? It's 5 in the morning, you moron. I've gotta get up in an hour, and I want to sleep.
Guts: I just need five more minutes.
Brain: sighs
So I was up until 5:30 listening to my guts. This is when having cut my finger so badly is not so bad, because I had woodshop this morning, but can't go because, well, I can't use any of the tools, so I slept in by an hour. Stupid guts.
I cut the end off my finger today. It was that kind of day. I didn't feel rested when I woke up, then worked pretty much nonstop from 9am, so when 3:30 rolled around, it's not surprising that when I hit the hard bit in some balsa wood, the knife slipped and sliced off the end of my finger and some of the fingernail. When it became clear that it was not going to stop bleeding, I went to the health center, where they made me soak it in ice water while my life blood poured out of me (it was quite dramatic). Then they put this interesting foam stuff on it and it finally stopped bleeding.
I had mild hysterics. They gave me juice, which helps low blood sugar but not hysterics. Now I am typing awkwardly with not all my fingers. The dumb thing? I keep thinking that this is going to really screw up my ability to do all the construction work I need to get done this week.
