So I decided to cut myself on the hand/wrist the other day with an incredibly sharp object in my wife’s junk closet.
Sadly, I have no idea how I managed to do it, but it was worth a trip to the emergency room yesterday evening and a day at home whimpering in pain every time I extended my index finger to type. The cut it seems is on the meaty part of my wrist underneath my thumb and just below the base of my left hand. I have no idea what part of my central nervous system resides there, but it’s constantly reminding me of its aggreived status.
In English, it hurts.
I am more upset about not being able to get back into the yard and get things ready for planting last weekend. My truck having been finally repaired (ignition module and tune-up, sparkplugs were fine) I was looking forward to getting more good dirt and filling out my semi-raised beds. No such luck, it would seem.
The good news is that my recently started tomatoes have already
begun to spring up! That’s two days in the some peat moss, guys. Peas are still getting ready, lettuce is just started, and every day I’m looking outside waiting for the temperatures to stay above freezing.
Today was Matthew’s birthday on top of it, so there was the obligatory cake and presents and horseplay. In the meantime, I keep looking at my poor hand and think to myself, “I should of just left the junk closet alone!”
Moral of the story
: It’s not your junk closet. Leave it be.