January 13th, 2005

Ow Ow Ow

I have five separated fingernail beds and the papercut from hell on my right index finger. So, typing this is the most painful thing I can do. You can thank me later.

I seem to have a thing for jobs that cut up my hands. I once pinned my thumb to a dissection board as a lab technician, and I won't go into what working with flying steel chips is like. But this job is the hardest of all, because I get at least one papercut a day, and the action of putting mags on the shelf skins my knuckles. My bandaid bill is quite large, but I'm great for recommendations on shitty vs. effective wound coverage. I had to hold my pen like a four-year-old today while writing up an invoice, all the while trying not to bleed on the paperwork. And then I wonder why some of the staff in these places look at me so so strange.

My darling mother-in-law gave me a paraffin bath as an early birthday gift. This should mitigate some of the dryness that's also caused by handling paper all day.
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    Jackson Browne - Running On Empty