Because my biological clock hates me, I am often the first person to wake up in my house. I’ve grudgingly come to accept this, but this acceptance doesn’t make me any more pleasant to be around. Continue reading “Death By 1,000 Cuts”
This would almost be OK if the causes of my injuries were even the slightest bit manly. But they aren’t. None of them.
I would give almost anything to be able to say that I got all those stitches in my hand by thwarting a knife attack. Or that I broke my big toe in Desert Storm.
But truth is lamer than fiction. I sliced my hand open doing dishes. I broke my toe falling down a stair. That’s right. A stair. One. Single. Stair.
My most embarrassing injury, however, occurred last year when I broke my left ring finger.
“How did you do that?” my friends asked, noticing my splint.
“Hospital corners,” I’d mumble.
“Hospital what? You broke it in a hospital?”
“No,” I sighed. “I was making hospital corners. I was making my bed. I tucked in the sheets with a little too much enthusiasm, I guess.”
In reply, my friends gave me a wide-eyed, wary, unsettled look, as if I had told just them I contracted tuberculosis and then proceeded to cough on their iPhones.
I’d like to say that my sheet tucking injury was an isolated incident, but it wasn’t. Less than a year before I had torn a tendon in my left middle finger doing the exact same thing.
Apparently bed-making is very dangerous.
I do learn from my mistakes, however. (I learn especially well when I make those mistakes more than once.) And now I can assert that my tucking-related injuries will now be a thing of the past.
I am proud to introduce The TuckMaster 2100!
You might think this is a spatula. My wife thinks this, too. But you’re all wrong. This little beauty is a fully functional, time saving, injury preventing, stylish and aerodynamic, sheet tucking system. No moving parts! No batteries required!
It works like a charm. Now when I make the beds, I let the TuckMaster 2100 do the hard work. It effortlessly slips between the mattress and the box spring and tucks better than my hands ever did.
Better still, my fragile, brittle fingers are forever out of harm’s way!
Well, they’re out of harm’s way until I do the dishes. I still have no solution for that one.
Pray for me.