Sunday September 10, 2006
I had a grand day in today. Got up. Did journal. Cooked and consumed breakfast—2 giant organic free range eggs, 2 rashers traditional cured bacon, 1 giant organic tomato, 2 small slices wholemeal bread, lightly fried. Washed and dried two loads of laundry. Cut the plastic wrapping away from Mr Rusty. [For those who don’t know, Mr Rusty is our familiar name for a rather fine larger than life bust of Zeus, cast in iron, which has been rusting happily in our gardens with us for some years now.]
The last was a mistake, and brought my day to a full stop. With one careless swipe of the packaging knife, I sliced deep into the index finger of my left hand and proceeded to gush gore. Profusely. Didn’t hurt, but wouldn’t stop bleeding, and no matter where I searched I couldn’t find the first aid kit for a suitable sticky plaster.
So I washed it hard under the tap [oooh, that stings!], dabbed it generously with tea-tree oil [oooh, that really stings!], and bound it tightly with a clean tissue and several pieces of sellotape.
I then went out again to finish the job. One handed. Carefully.
I was however rendered pretty well useless for the rest of the day. Each time I bashed it, no matter how gently, the wound opened up and started gushing again. Have you noticed how often you bash a finger when you really don’t need or want to? Or how it drips over whatever it is you’re trying to do before you realize?
It stopped eventually, of course, after several false starts, but I’ve spent most of the day nursing the darned thing, trying to keep it from harm, and have just about lost all of what ought to have been a good, quietly productive day.
Hey ho. I’ve phoned Graham to ask him to procure a good stout sticky plaster for me ready for when I pick him up in the small hours of what will be tomorrow and that’ll put me to rights. I’ll buy a box of the things just as soon as I get to a pharmacy, meantime I’m sure the management won’t grudge me a commercial grade bandaid—it is after all in their interests that I don’t drip my gravy into Graham’s late supper, or his breakfast and lunch tomorrow.
So, here I am, being brave like a good little soldier, and trying my best to ignore it now it’s started to throb. Just as well I had a tetanus jab not too long ago and that it’s still current or I’d be getting all hypochondriacal about it. As it is, it’s just a nuisance. A bloody nuisance.
Mr Rusty Rides Again