While making casserole Monday I burned my finger. Much to my changrin a blister didn't immediately appear. You see, without a blister or other assorted marks, there was no attestation to the pain I had encountered. There was simply my word. And boy, oh boy, was my word colorful! I complained about it for nearly 10 minutes (with other gripes here and there throughout the night) and needed proof to confirm that I wasn't simply being a drama queen (a few weeks ago a metal grate of a deal fell on a bone on my wrist. While recovering from that I somehow managed to let a window fall on my hand. These experiences happened within 2 minutes of one another so pain dances were performed and words were uttered that made Nathan look at me like I had come from the ninth circle of hell. Only a tiny purpley tint emerged to affirm that I had been injured. It was a miniscule mark to show tiny slivers of death that went all the way to my elbow. I was disappointed) and that I had ample reason to put off finishing the casserole another 15 minutes or so. The next morning a beautful blister adorned my middle finger! I paraded it around as if it were my second born child. Dear, sweet justificaton!! Of course, I'm sure they believed all along that it hurt like a bitch, but I wanted to give them something concrete. Thank you little blister for presenting yourself. You make me happy...kinda.
Tonight I was bored. Nathan and I were having our "talk time" on the couch and he was using it to work on his comic book of "Spike and Cy" while ignoring me. I tried fruitlessly to attain and keep his attention. I walked dinosaurs across the couch singing "doopy doopy dooo" and pretended to fry up a spider silly band. Both of these attempts were met with a "What the heck?!" and a giggle after which he returned to the land of the cyclops and spiky dude, drawing clouds in each panel. Then I saw them. It should have been a harmless venture really...I was simply going to pick them up, look at them and set them back down. I had spotted needle nosed pliers on Adam's desk. After examining them I noticed they were the type that have the wire cutters at the base near the handles. Uh oh. This would not end well. Of course I didn't think that at the time and started to return them to their previous home when I spotted a paper clip. It wasn't one of those tiny little paper clips either. It was one that would hold about 100 sheets of paper with no problem and had a thick layer of plastic coating. So, I do what any red blooded American would do...I cut the paper clip with the wire cutters. This took quite a bit of umph being that it was a thick paper clip and the cutters weren't very sharp. Yup...you've probably guessed it by now. When the clip finally gave and went flying I realized my hand was in the area where the springy part was. For this little brain blocked moment, I have proof already. Two tiny blood blisters. Moral of that story? Don't give Steph sharp objects when she's bored. Just don't.
But despite all my clumsiness, with a dash of luck and a sprinkle of divine intervention, I remain in one piece. For this, we can be grateful.