I was hurrying through my shower today at the gym, post-swim, because it was 12:10 when I hauled my aching body out of the pool and into the shower. And the childcare closes at 12:30. And I like to take my sweet time in a hot shower, even when I haven’t just abused my muscles.

So I had blindly stuck my hand into my shower bag and naturally, I sliced open my fingertip on my razor. I hate that moment of suspense when you do something like that: those few seconds of thinking, “Oh, shit,” before the nerves begin to sting and the blood beads up on your skin. 

And then I had to try to get dressed without making a mess of my clothes, brush my hair, and put on make-up (yeah, I know, but I really did), without a Band-Aid (cue the violins).

I do want to point out here that at no point was I worried about deadly infections. That is strictly an insomnia thing. 

Eventually I made it to pick up my kids, though admittedly it was after the annoyed voice came over the PA system that the childcare was now closed. To be fair, the clock in the locker room still said 12:28. Just saying. 

But then my children were horrified by my still-bleeding finger. So much so, that later at their annual checkups, they mentioned it to the doctor.

My point, and I do have one, is that I actually have the urge to write but I SLICED MY DAMNED FINGER! So it hurts to type (I hope you appreciate the pain I’ve gone through for the past five minutes), or hold a pen, so instead I spent the evening watching three episodes of Buffy.

And now my husband is home and it’s bedtime. So, g’night.