I am regrettably writing with a bum thumb. I’ve never needed to depress the space bar with my right pointer finger before, and let me assure you, it’s rather annoying. What’s worse is when I forget to use my index finder and tap it with my sadly injured thumb. Let’s just say it doesn’t tickle.
Yes, in my caffeine-addled craze last night while heading to a holiday party, I inadvertently slammed my right thumb with my car door. I will blame it on the incline where I parked my car, as surely it was the reason the door crashed up on my poor thumb. Gravity pulled it closed. I am certain it had nothing with the excitement of rushing off to a party on a Saturday night. No, nothing at all.
It happened fast. And it hurt so bad, I was stunned. The second my brain caught up with the pain, however, I felt my whole body electrify. My nail turned a bright crimson, then faded to a deep purple within minutes. I iced it. I held it above my head. I had a shot of Jameson. That seemed to help.
I had hoped by morning that it would have healed up pretty well. Alas, my friends, that is sadly not the case. I have a swollen thumb with a grape colored nail. Oddly enough, the shade is quite close to my toenail polish. Oh, how I wish it were only polish instead of a hideous bruise.
How is any of this relevant, you wonder? Aside from the fact that typing has become tricky, I am finding taking care of the baby rather challenging. I mean, I can barely grasp a glass of water. How am I supposed to hoist my nine month old? Or change the diaper on his squirmy little bum? I guess I’ll just be thankful that the thumb isn’t broken–we tested for a break with my husband’s tuning fork, which was highly entertaining. I am also thankful that he is off from work this week. What’s that, Rhys? Oh, a wet diaper? Better go tell Dad…