I have it. Because I have nothing to tell. I've spent the entire weekend on the sofa, nursing my wounds. Every time the Lortab wears off, my hand starts throbbing like a mo-fo. And I have absolutely no pain threshold. I finally removed the clunky removable splint. For good. Well, except for during my trip to Lowe's. I had to start the ignition with my left hand, but luckily, I could still change gears with my right hand.
I felt self conscious going out in public, but luckily, my bangs are long enough to cover up the damage from my face plant. I look kinda like Two Face from Batman. And most of my right hand is a lovely blue/purple/green hombre and my little finger looks like a plump sausage. Ugh. I'm dreading surgery Thursday. And then again in six weeks, to remove the pins. I wonder what would happen if I just skipped the surgery. I might just ask about that. It's just my little finger, after all. And right now, I can still type without too much pain. Without the splint. When I have a cast, I'll really be helpless. I am soooo right-hand dominant.
While I was at Lowe's, I bought a For Rent sign to put in the yard at my other house. And some pansies and cilantro and lots of seeds for The Daddler to plant. He seemed pleasantly surprised. I'm thinking of tilling up some of our yard beyond the fence. Our property line is 20 feet beyond the fence, and that's the only place we'll be able to get enough sun to grow veggies.
Well, I'm sure this isn't the least bit interesting, so I'm gonna head back to the sofa. It's probably time to do another load of clothes. Play Words With Friends. And snuggle up with my sweet Lucy Dog.
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