Aww. Jeez. Like. Christ. Fuck. My hands hurt. It's all my fault. I'm such a god damn, bejesus klutz. Fuck. I'm right some fucking clumsy, I am.
Being a klutz can be a good thing. It builds character. It makes you tougher and increases your pain threshold. Your basically always in pain. As one injury heals, a new one grows.
Why do my hands hurt?
It's been such an exhausting week. Having only Sundays off, I put off clearing out my kitchen until Sunday. Last Saturday all I could think about was relaxing. But, I knew the workers were coming in on Monday. I had to clean out the whole kitchen for them. I had to put all my dishes and stuff into boxes and find somewhere to put those boxes. As you may not know, finding a place to put boxes is difficult for me. I have all theses keepsake, the kind of things your parents have in their basements, I also have stuff I want to keep for myself, like those old CoCo 2 and 3 computers I have from the 80's. So, I was up until 2:30 Monday morning (Saturday night) preparing for the renovations.
Sure enough, they were knocking at my door less than 6 hours after I had fallen asleep. Mondays are one of my long days at work. I came home to a fume filled apartment with new kitchen cabinets. I ate stuff, smoked stuff, and fell asleep on the couch somewhere between the Daily Show and E Talk Daily. I made it to bed.
Then came Tuesday. Inventory. Oh joy. Have you ever done inventory? That was my third time. It was pretty interesting...in a way. First, I filled out as many return forms as I could. That meant less magazines "we" had to count, but really, it meant extra magazines that I had to count. But that's okay. I really like my job. I hope I'm doing well. So, me and Keith counted all the cards. By price. We started around 8:00. When the store closed at 9:30, Doran and Graham paired up and counted magazines. When we finished the cards, Keith and I counted the art. music, film, and kid sections.
I got to Hell's Kitchen around 12:35-12:45. I missed Target Monkey play with the Spincycle Squared. Battle of the bands. KNA and BGH moved on to round 2. I spent most of my time in the smoking room.
Wednesday morning I got up, for the third day in a row, for those construction workers. They didn't come until 11:30. While I waited, I watched Canada a.m. and Regis and Kelly. The construction guys are a father and son team. The son, you can tell, was a social misfit. He didn't have a lot of friends in school. So he hung out with his dad and built stuff. Now he's in my house. He says "Should we go check if he's here?" His dad says "Who, Doug? [my landlord]" "No, Bush." "Oh, I don't care" his dad says, and puts plaster on my kitchen ceiling.
When Bush starts to speak, those guys sit in my living room with me, still in my pajamas, and watch. "He's a good speaker though. Good at puttin' 'is words together." "He wasn't always like that, sir." The son calls the father "sir" all the time.
But, back to my hands; in order of occurrence. Tuesday morning, while watching tv and drinking coffee, I tried to get Gertie to jump up on the couch beside me. I patted my hand up and down on the couch. Instead of jumping up, she smacked my hand in a playful gesture. There are three scratches on my right middle finger.
Wednesday, I work 2 hours in the cafe. But I was exhausted, and we were sorta busy with people stopping in after the protest. I was pouring a tea for someone. We use the hot water tap on the side of the coffee maker. Somehow I turned a bit, I think I turned to hear someone's order, and the water poured all over my left hand. I let it continue for a few seconds while my reflexes kicked in. I pulled my hand back, put the tea in my right hand, and finished pouring it. I put my hand in cold water. I spent the rest of my shift making drinks, taking orders, doing dishes, serving orders, and dousing my hand in cold water. Then, I put some polysporin and band-aids on it, took some ibuprophen and worked my closing shift downstairs. At this moment, I still can't grip things tightly or make a fist; it pulls my skin and hurts.
Then, back to my right hand. Thursday I got off work at 6:00. Being drained from the week, we decided to clean out some of our new kitchen, relax, and go to bed early. I repeatedly and accidently smacked my hand into the cupboard door frame as I wiped out the cupboards. There's no skin on a small part of my thumb knuckle. Around the thumb a bit, is a big gash. Putting some leftovers in the fridge Thursday night, the saran wrap wouldn't rip. I pulled with more force, and the teeth drove into my hand.
This day last year, I wrote about brian the ling.
Being a klutz can be a good thing. It builds character. It makes you tougher and increases your pain threshold. Your basically always in pain. As one injury heals, a new one grows.
Why do my hands hurt?
It's been such an exhausting week. Having only Sundays off, I put off clearing out my kitchen until Sunday. Last Saturday all I could think about was relaxing. But, I knew the workers were coming in on Monday. I had to clean out the whole kitchen for them. I had to put all my dishes and stuff into boxes and find somewhere to put those boxes. As you may not know, finding a place to put boxes is difficult for me. I have all theses keepsake, the kind of things your parents have in their basements, I also have stuff I want to keep for myself, like those old CoCo 2 and 3 computers I have from the 80's. So, I was up until 2:30 Monday morning (Saturday night) preparing for the renovations.
Sure enough, they were knocking at my door less than 6 hours after I had fallen asleep. Mondays are one of my long days at work. I came home to a fume filled apartment with new kitchen cabinets. I ate stuff, smoked stuff, and fell asleep on the couch somewhere between the Daily Show and E Talk Daily. I made it to bed.
Then came Tuesday. Inventory. Oh joy. Have you ever done inventory? That was my third time. It was pretty interesting...in a way. First, I filled out as many return forms as I could. That meant less magazines "we" had to count, but really, it meant extra magazines that I had to count. But that's okay. I really like my job. I hope I'm doing well. So, me and Keith counted all the cards. By price. We started around 8:00. When the store closed at 9:30, Doran and Graham paired up and counted magazines. When we finished the cards, Keith and I counted the art. music, film, and kid sections.
I got to Hell's Kitchen around 12:35-12:45. I missed Target Monkey play with the Spincycle Squared. Battle of the bands. KNA and BGH moved on to round 2. I spent most of my time in the smoking room.
Wednesday morning I got up, for the third day in a row, for those construction workers. They didn't come until 11:30. While I waited, I watched Canada a.m. and Regis and Kelly. The construction guys are a father and son team. The son, you can tell, was a social misfit. He didn't have a lot of friends in school. So he hung out with his dad and built stuff. Now he's in my house. He says "Should we go check if he's here?" His dad says "Who, Doug? [my landlord]" "No, Bush." "Oh, I don't care" his dad says, and puts plaster on my kitchen ceiling.
When Bush starts to speak, those guys sit in my living room with me, still in my pajamas, and watch. "He's a good speaker though. Good at puttin' 'is words together." "He wasn't always like that, sir." The son calls the father "sir" all the time.
But, back to my hands; in order of occurrence. Tuesday morning, while watching tv and drinking coffee, I tried to get Gertie to jump up on the couch beside me. I patted my hand up and down on the couch. Instead of jumping up, she smacked my hand in a playful gesture. There are three scratches on my right middle finger.
Wednesday, I work 2 hours in the cafe. But I was exhausted, and we were sorta busy with people stopping in after the protest. I was pouring a tea for someone. We use the hot water tap on the side of the coffee maker. Somehow I turned a bit, I think I turned to hear someone's order, and the water poured all over my left hand. I let it continue for a few seconds while my reflexes kicked in. I pulled my hand back, put the tea in my right hand, and finished pouring it. I put my hand in cold water. I spent the rest of my shift making drinks, taking orders, doing dishes, serving orders, and dousing my hand in cold water. Then, I put some polysporin and band-aids on it, took some ibuprophen and worked my closing shift downstairs. At this moment, I still can't grip things tightly or make a fist; it pulls my skin and hurts.
Then, back to my right hand. Thursday I got off work at 6:00. Being drained from the week, we decided to clean out some of our new kitchen, relax, and go to bed early. I repeatedly and accidently smacked my hand into the cupboard door frame as I wiped out the cupboards. There's no skin on a small part of my thumb knuckle. Around the thumb a bit, is a big gash. Putting some leftovers in the fridge Thursday night, the saran wrap wouldn't rip. I pulled with more force, and the teeth drove into my hand.
This day last year, I wrote about brian the ling.
posted by crystal at
1:19 am
1 Comments:
Wow, I should write more when I come home drunk from a bar. Nice misuse of the word "your", redundancy with the word "and", and inconsistency.
By
crystal, at 4/12/04 11:11 pm
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