While my index finger debacle was still healing, I matched it with a paper cut on the other hand. I mean bad. I did it with the jagged edge of a cardboard box. I ran for gauze and knocked my arm against the door opening. Like a six-foot wide archway wasn’t wide enough to fit through. I felt like a contortionist, holding onto my finger with one hand and attempting to apply pressure to the bloody arm with the hand that had sustained the aforementioned injury. Even with my yoga training, it just wasn’t working.
So I went to work yesterday spotted with gauge, scabs, and bruises. Nae and I went to lunch. Her birthday, her pick. We both love the Vietnamese hot pot with rice noodles, bean sprouts, and various meats. It’s yummy. They served Jalapeños on the side. Remember I’m into risk taking now, so I took one. Wisely, I removed the excess seeds to reduce the hot spicy taste, and then unwisely broke it into tiny pieces using my fingernails (my own, I might mention) dropping it into my soup. Double unwisely, I rubbed my eye.
I now had Jalapeño juice in my eye and on my lid. It was on fire. At the very least, smokin’. I returned to work with a napkin and ice cube eye patch.
“I didn’t know Jalapeños burned like that,” I admitted.
“Duh,” said Nae. “It’s a Jalapeño. You’re just supposed to float them in the soup for flavor. Not actually eat them. Or wear them.”
“Oh,” I acknowledged, consuming this new information. I’d never even heard of Jalapeños until I was forty.
“I know something that will help you,” she said. “Stay in bed this weekend and don’t get out.”
This morning I lay there and considered Nae’s suggestion — comfy, under warm covers, remote control within reach.
“Wanna go workout,” suggests my husband.
Hmmm, let’s see. Bed, gym. Wonder what’s going to win.
The guilt won. Off to the gym. Other than getting my hand temporarily caught between two weights, I left unscathed.
On the way home, Couponman spied a bunch of blue and white balloons. “Look a grand opening for a CareMore facility.” I guess after fifty you look incessantly for senior health plans. (I wouldn’t know; I’m the new forty.) “I think I’ll check it out for freebies.”
“Go for it,” I said. You can never have too many Band-aids.
“They’ll probably have Danish and all kinds of good stuff,” he says excitedly. “I’ll bring some home.”
“No don’t,” I answered.
“Then I’ll bring it home,” he said, ”and not tell you.”
Didn’t you tell me already?????
A little while later Couponman arrived home, empty-handed and a little gloomy. “Was it worth your time?” I asked.
“No, not really,” he admitted. “They were just giving away flu shots.”
Related posts:
Print This Post
So, do you still look like quasimodo? I hope the pain resolved. Remember, at our age, limit your activities if you want to stay healthy. from Klutz #2. You, obviously are Klutz #1 (my mentor).
You need to put all of these anecdotes about Ph. in a book! They’re the best!
Cute article Penny ; )