I got a splinter in my finger today.
This, in and of itself, is not overly noteworthy. There was a little twist to the tale, however. I got a splinter in a finger on my right hand. I’m right handed. And if you remember…my left hand is there for nothing but balance and decoration. So the splinter is still there.
I’ve tried everything.
I have tried using tweezers, teeth, fingernails, tape, and a needle. So far, I have done nothing to dislodge the splinter. I enlisted an assistant to attempt to remove the tiny sliver of wood, to no avail.
So the splinter is STILL there.
I have vague memories from childhood, of my mother using some sort of black sticky salve to draw out wood splinters, but I couldn’t begin to guess what that might have been. If it’s still there in the morning, I may call her. In the mean time, I will be wrapping my finger in a Band-Aid to prevent further injury to an already tender wound.
I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating…I need finger armor.
I might just need full body armor, but that would make getting around a little difficult. Plus, people would laugh at me. Not that I’m worried about that so much, but Mike would be embarrassed to be seen with me. Sort of like when I wear the crazy hot pink sweater. Or my red rubber “doo doo” boots. Or anything that may have been given to me as a Christmas present from someone who shops the sales rack at JC Penney’s (someone who will remain nameless.) I still wear these things. I just have to walk several feet behind Mike, and pretend we don’t know each other, when I do. It’s a small price to pay. I love my pink sweater, my “doo doo” boots, and almost everything from the Penney’s sales rack. Everything but the white polyester pant suit I got three or four Christmas’s ago. The one that still hangs in my closet, just in case it actually comes back into fashion sometime in the future.
But right now, I’m hardly worried about what not to wear; I’m worried about getting the fragment of lumber out of my finger. Maybe I’ll soak it in soapy water. I don’t know if it will help, but it probably can’t hurt, and it might feel nice. Maybe I should soak my whole body that way…as in a bubble bath.
Maybe the splinter was trying to tell me something…I need to relax, and pamper myself.
Or maybe it was telling me to stop touching things in the sporting goods store.
Until the next time…I’ll be neck deep in Mr. Bubbles!