These holiday preparations are kicking my ample rumpus! I baked three Oreo Cakes today. As I write this at 1:10 a.m., having just finished the last one, I am exhausted. Of course I was also in town buying the lottery tickets I give as gifts, and getting a bag of ice for FRIG II's broken icemaker. Then I had to get Farmer H's supper ready. I washed dishes three times.
My knees are so disagreeable that people go out of their way to be nice to me in town. One guy held the door open for me while I moved at turtle speed from the handicap space to the entrance. The lady rounding up the carts at 10Box pushed one over to T-Hoe's door for me. I swear, before long somebody is going to jump on me and start pounding my chest, asking if I am conscious.
Even when sitting down, I can sustain an injury or two. I hurt my right arm icing the second Oreo Cake. I don't know how. One cake it worked just fine, but on the next, it hurt in the area above the bicep, and trembled as I was wielding my butter knife loaded with frosting.
Something was also hurting the end of my middle finger on the right hand. My badfinger! It felt like bamboo had been shoved under the nail to torture me. Typing is not helping it. But I DID figure out the cause when I opened my last tub of Pillsbury Creamy Supreme Vanilla Frosting.
I took off the blue plastic lid, and reached to peel off the foil covering using that little folded-over tab. The edge of it went right under my middle fingernail! YOUCH! Now it hurts twice as much. Especially in hot dishwater.
Oh, for the days I was young and spry, and could stand in the kitchen to bake cakes, walk into a store, and remember how I hurt myself.
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