The Fun Goes On

My mother-in-law was transported to a rehab facility Friday evening. She was not very happy about it, but she endured the transfer without kicking and screaming. All I will say is that she is in a nice place, yet she thinks everyone is trying to make her life miserable. None of her gloominess seems to faze Jim at all. I only wish that I could ignore it as easily as he does. She is due to start occupational therapy, as well as physical therapy, tomorrow.

This afternoon I was attempting to open Jacob’s new guitar pick. It was encased in some of that plastic material that only a blowtorch could penetrate. I grabbed my Exacto knife and was slicing through the impossibly thick packaging when my hand slipped. I felt the blade pierce my finger, my skin flapped loosely, and the blood started gushing. Jim agreed that I needed stitches, and Jacob immediately wanted to call everyone we know to report the big news. I ended up with four sutures that cannot be removed for two weeks. Plus, a splint to keep my finger straight because the cut is on my knuckle and it should not be bent until the wound heals. It is on the middle finger of my left hand, so if you see me waving in the next fourteen days, understand that I am not flipping you off. I am merely flaunting my new finger immobilizer.