Ouch

I just stuck my finger in my eye.

Screw you guys, I'm going home.

Lousy Smarch

I am so effin' sick of snow.

Adam is getting his last set of molars, and decided to stay up all night. Matt was doing after-hours work on-site, so guess who got to extoll the many virtues of going back to sleep to a completely unreceptive audience.

Two hours of sleep. All night. And now snow!

SMRT

I seem to be on a mission to take out my exremities one by one.

Last week, when I got home from PurlyGirls, I somehow managed to slam my finger in the car door. I truly have no clue how I did it - one minute I was grabbing my knitting bag, the next I was hopping up and own mumbling owowowmthrfckrow!

I've been successfully closing car doors for quite a few years now, and this is the first time I've caught anything beyond a skirt or a seat belt in one.

I was hoping for a good bruise to share, but instead it just got sore and swollen, and maybe a little red. I did get to spend a day flipping people off when I told them my story, though, so I suppose that's worth the price of admission.


A few days later, I caught the a fingernail on my other hand on something - again in my car - and felt like I'd ripped the thing off when I moved my hand away. Again, no marks; I guess my subconscious doesn't want anyone to know how it treats me when we're alone.

And then today, I came back from lunch and tripped over nothing in my office, and fell hard on my ankle. I may need to pick up a brace; it's been really painful, and since it's my clutch foot, driving home was pretty hard.

Sigh. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my cushy padded bubble, trying not to breathe too hard.