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Okay, I haven't managed to re-establish the reading-DW habit yet. Or... do it at all, really. But! Reconnecting with the interface, etc! So I shall now tell you about the Most Pathetic Injuries Ever, both of which I have suffered in the last week.|
First, my grievous stabbing. By which I meaen a splinter that was just so annoying in its tininess.
See, I'd noticed, suddenly, that when my left ring finger brushed against my middle finger, it sort of hurt. It was super-annoying, so I looked at my finger, and saw... nothing. But there was still pain!
Upon closer examination, I noticed a little dark spot. No, smaller than you're thinking. Like, look at a hair, end-on, right? About, oh, a quarter that size.
Looking at it side-on, I confirmed it was definitely a splinter of some kind, as it stuck out of the skin maaaybe 0.1mm.
I had to borrow velithya's tweezers to get it out, as they are newer and better than mine, because my tweezers don't apparently meet perfectly at the very very tip so it didn't stick out far enough for my tweezers to grip.
Epic poetry will be written about my suffering. Or would've been, except velithya out-suffered me by burning her fingers slightly the next day in a sleep-deprived moment of oops, so I had to out-stupid her injury, apparently, and I managed that HANDILY.
In that two days ago, while eating noodles for lunch, and reading, and also talking to Chas about something, I was a little distracted is the issue here is what I'm saying, I managed to sort of miss my mouth and stabbed myself in the lip with my fork. I didn't think much of it until after lunch when I felt like I had something on my lip and went to wipe it off and found dried blood crumbling away.
I currently look permanently like I have a little bit of chocolate ice cream or something on my chin/lower lip, but it's actually a little scab from where I stabbed myself with a fork, because I missed my mouth, and seriously, there's a reason the toddlers I know eat with plastic cutlery but I am thirty freaking four years old.
So that's my week in Pathetically Trivial Wounds That I Feel More Inclined To Complain About Than I Did About A Broken Leg.
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