i fully admit to being tired. because it's month and quarter end, there's been a lot of overtime. because gerry's in boston all week i'm responsible for lighting the fire and cooking my dinner by myself. it's certainly cut back on my pavlova consumption.
having anticipated this, on sunday i picked up some irish specialties: food that fits into my routine of: get home, turn on stove, go pee, light fire, put in food, have shower, sit on my ass researching travel plans and watch an episode of america's/britain's NTM, jon stewart and law & order while chatting to friends online.
yesterday, after finishing the dinner part of that and bringing my dishes into the kitchen, i was running back to the living room cause i'd just got a gust of smoke. i was closing the door between the hall and the kitchen when my claddagh ring caught on the door handle. it felt like my finger had been torn off. luckily it was just cut, the ring is completely warped (if it had been a thicker style, i'd probably be fingerless now) and my finger is killing me.
my diagnoses is that i've sprained my finger. (some of you may know me from such hits as 'kindgirl needs your help' which does clarify that i *am* in fact a doctor.) i have taken some aspirin and will bandage up my hand when i get home. i don't think it helps that my arthritis is especially bad in that hand.
at least i didn't lose my finger. i'm pretty happy about that.
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