Injury

This will be short as my first task at MIL’s apartment today was to streamline her utensils which occupied every drawer in her kitchen… I found a ceramic crock, and started placing items in it when my thumb found a very sharp knife. My edict had been that no knives would make the trip… Some hours, and four stitches later, I returned briefly to try and help with picture hanging decisions. I left to look for a replacement couch for Stella.

Typing, as just about everything, is fucking difficult not only because the injury is on my dominant hand, but it’s next to a joint, hurts, and is wrapped up in enough bandaging to remind me to stand down.

At least it wasn’t my MIL who found a razor sharp knife in and amongst her whisks and ladles.