I'm typing this with one hand, because the other is totally broken. Well, probably not really, but it feels like it. Coming out of the small barn this evening with a container full of food for the pig, a goat (didn't see which one) jumped up on the door and slammed it on my thumb. Tore all the skin off the top and it instantly swelled to twice normal size. I howled like a banshee.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
It's now two hours later and I've taken four ibuprofen and kept it soaking in ice water, but I still can't bend it and it still hurts almost as much as it did at first. If Homero were here I might go get an x-ray, but he's spending the night in Seattle at work. Can't leave the kids. I think a strong snort of bourbon might be the only treatment available tonight.
It's been quite a while since I hurt myself, so I can't complain. The last time was way back last winter when I fell off the ladder. Oh well, and I put a staple in the palm of my hand last week when I was trying to staple up bird netting to keep the chickens out of the loft, but that hardly counts, that's just plain ordinary stupidity.