Don't mind me. I'm just saving another picture for the album I plan to used for my proposed book (that will be sold on the counter of my proposed handbasket factory): The Scarred and Gnarled Hands of the Ex-Schoolteacher. I've already got enough here for half a book, I think.
There's nothing much else to write about on my 24/7/365 blog about nothing. Pickin's are slim without a job to snark about. The boys have flown the coop and left this old buzzard without blog fodder. Farmer H is a rich topic. But like when he took his first job working at a gas station for all the soda and candy he could consume...one soon grows full of too much of a good thing.
Anyhoo...a few days ago I was in the act of sitting down in my old rolly chair, the best present I ever got from Farmer H. Yes, that includes the $3 change purse and the box of Sno*Caps, as well as the OPC (Old People Chair). Over the years, my ORC (Old Rolly Chair) has fallen on hard times.
More like it's fallen under my ample butt. The armrest had cracked and fallen off of the left side. The curvy plastic has given way to a curved, flat piece of steel, covered on top and on the on the vertical section by the seat with a flat tube of steel. But none of that flat tube in the 90-degree bendy part.
MY THUMB WENT DOWN IN THE FLAT TUBEY PART!
It got STUCK, actually, as I was in the process of sitting down. That was a wrenching experience. It hurt like an emmer-effer, but didn't do too much damage. I was disappointed. How could I share my most recent maiming with the people who care?
Anyhoo...I can't grow a new thumb. But I'm pretty sure the skin will grow back for me to rip again. Maybe I'll even get a better wound next time!