This morning I smashed my left pinky finger in the folding door of the laundry closet.
It was one of those injuries that hurts so much you're afraid to look at it in case something has been severed.
In fact, nothing was severed, but my fingertip is bruised and swollen and it hurts like hell.
Did you know you need your pinky finger to do all sorts of things that you would never think you use it for?
And helping a child into a fencing jacket?
It reminds me of when I had a C-section and discovered to my amazement that your abdominal muscles are somehow involved when you pee, which is a bit of a problem if they've just been cut in two.
And now I'm going to stop typing, because every time I hit an "a," which is often, it makes my whole hand throb like the coyote's paw just after the roadrunner drives a steamroller over it.
There may be real content here later.
Or perhaps not.