It’s Just a Flesh Wound

I am currently typing without my pinkie, as it is bleeding in protest of an unfortunate event that happened this morning.

Mainly, my finger was caught in the hinge of a collapsible hair dryer.

A blister immediately formed, which I had to nurse on the run so as to be on time for World History.

This afternoon I aggravated the injury further by spending an hour dusting the display cases in Imholte Hall.  The foul-smelling solution I used apparently doesn’t play well with flesh wounds.

And now, having written this rather gruesome post, I’m heading home for tea, Neosporin, and bed.


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