Mightier Than The Pen

Making The World A Bitter Place

Adding Injury to Idiocy

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This post will take a lot longer than usual to type, so please read slowly.

It hurts to type: I burned my thumb on the frying pan while making French toast, so my left hand has been more or less occupied with an ice pack for the last four or five hours. I have no idea how many words per minute I typically type, but I certainly can’t attain that pace with only one hand, especially when that hand is also charged with scratching itches, opening snacks and fishing phone, keys, pen and memory stick out of my pocket. My left pocket, of course. My right pocket holds my wallet, which carries nothing of value anyway. It just balances out the weight of my trousers so they don’t droop too much on the left, much in the way the airlines have to distribute the really fat people throughout the aircraft, thereby also achieving maximum annoyance of other passengers per square foot of cabin.

But just because I’m typing slowly doesn’t mean I’m not exerting myself. There’s a mosquito in here, so each time I catch a glimpse of it my right hand stops typing to reach for the swatter. The paranoid, frantic side-to-side head-turning I perform in a vain search for the elusive jerk not only entertains whoever happens to be looking in the window (probably just cats at the moment, and they’re used to chasing air molecules, so the movement should look familiar to them), but also burns crucial extra fractions of a calorie that can now be safely replenished with chocolate.

The good news for my finger is that the interval between ice removal and searing pain has grown from nanoseconds to up to half a minute, which allowed me to use the turn signal more or less normally on my way to and from meeting the boys’ teachers this evening; all I had to do was put my hand back on the ice pack in my lap. Attending the meeting with a wet lap was not the original plan, mind you, but I had already established myself as a freak when I introduced myself as my son’s mother (the other parents were kind enough to point out my mistake. What would we do without such helpful people?).

I also want to be helpful, so I’ll furnish this advice: If the bottle of oil happens to spill while you’re frying, and you must grab it to keep more oil from pouring out, do your best to make sure you grasp only the plastic bottle and not the unspeakably hot steel skillet edge.

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Written by Thag

October 5, 2010 at 11:04 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged with , , ,

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