- Come downstairs to a sink full of dirty dishes
- Realize they are there because oh yes, the dishwasher went on the fritz last night and tried to wash the dishes without any water
- Before having coffee, fill the sink and begin washing the dishes by hand
- Pick up a glass, begin to wash the inside and the rim
- Glass shatters in hand while hand is twisting inside the glass. Outside of pinky makes firm contact with sharp edge of broken glass
- Blood everywhere, no paper towels (someone used the last one and didn’t refill them, dagnabit!)
- Stand at the sink for several minutes holding finger with firm pressure because somewhere in the back of my coffee-deprived mind I remember that pressure to cuts is a good thing
- Drip to bathroom, get roll of toilet paper, apply liberally to finger, while continuing pressure
- Look for bandaids. DG used the last of them on her blister three days ago. Damn.
- Curse and start looking for keys to drive to drugstore and get bandaids
- Realize no bandaid will keep this sucker shut. Make mental note to get butterflies and bandaids while hunting for keys which are seriously missing now
- Find cloth tape, tape nice thick pad over finger tightly as stopgap measure
- Throw tantrum over missing keys.
- Try to ignore pain in pinky and spreading red stain
- BD comes home from gym, ask him to get bandaids. Being a somewhat useless type around blood, he insists I accompany him
- Answer questions at the drugstore about why I have toilet paper taped to my finger while I’m buying butterflies and two different sizes and shapes of bandaids. (DUH….why do you THINK? sheesh).
- Butterfly wound together, quietly ignoring the fact that I see the bone.
- Apply antibiotic creme, bandage wound
- Make coffee
- Realize that the pinky is more important than I thought for lots of things, like opening jars, typing, and other daily chores
- Wonder if going back to bed and getting up again would make a difference
Funny thing — I see that there is still a dirty dish convention, but I can’t wash them…I have a cut. And a cold. And I’m tired and miserable.
Grump.
But I did find my keys in my backpack, exactly where they were supposed to be. I think it was a sign that I shouldn’t be trusted with anything yesterday. Today I type, just slower than usual and with more mistakes. Hurts, but not as much as I expected it to.
Looking for a replacement for the dishwasher, which has apparently died forever.
