Postcards to Stockhom: The importance of... opposable thumbs

Dear Sis,

Yay! for blog posts categorised under "Daily life catastrophes and other stories" yay!

Second weekend spent at my place and second catastrophe. I don't want to but can't help thinking that my own apartment hates me to pieces.

First weekend there cost me four days of physiotherapy. Second weekend almost cost me that distinctive human feature not valued enough: Opposable thumbs.

I sliced half my left thumb's phalanx and it was like being part of a Tarantino movie.

It was all going nice and smooth on Sunday morning and I was about to try my new toaster when it all happened. A false movement and I had enough blood on the counter to feed the whole cast of  Twilight.

I kept calm for enough time to get some ice on my finger, put my coat on and go straight to my mom's in my PJs. Once there... I cried, almost lost consciousness and let mom take care of me like a baby. Living within a five minute walk from your mom can save your life.

My thumb has been rendered useless for a while it seems... so now, completely normal and effortless actions become a trial and I require assistance for simple stuff like:

1 - Washing my hair.
2 - Opening a packet of M&Ms...
3 - Squeezing the toothpaste.
4 - Zipping my jeans.
5 - Collecting the parking ticket from the machine while driving (most painful so far).
6 - Adding sugar to my coffe.
7 - Combing my hair (is if had hair to be combed actually).
8 - Typing on my Bb.
9 - Snapping my fingers (don't really want to imagine that right now).
10 - Piloting the Tardis, the Millenuim Falcon and the Enteprise.

So here I am, dirty hair, dirty teeth, uncombed hair (not unzipped jeans, not that) loving all this complaining.

I am not uploading pictures this time for your own sake. No need to thank me.

Love,

M