Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Sometimes I'll think I should do something - it can be something simple and easy like cutting my fingernails - then I'll promptly dismiss the thought because something sparkly, shiny, chocolaty or bloggy will catch my attention and there I go down the other
I did that Sunday night. My right thumbnail was getting too long and, more than once, I thought 'I should cut that or it's going to bend or break.' I never did trim that nail. So it bent back, split and broke when I tried to pry apart the containers of bird seed that had vacuum sealed themselves together (when I sat the one with the lid on top of the one without the lid like a dumbass) yesterday morning. It broke below the quick and it hurts! Some of the nail clings on just so that when I bump my thumb on something, it can jam into the quick which is already tender and feeling raw.
One would think that a woman who, without painkillers of any kind, bore three babies naturally could endure the inconvenience and minor pain of an exposed nail bed. You would be wrong. This thing is ouchy, smarty, hurty and downright fucking agonizing. And of course, since I'm right handed, the sore thumb is on my right hand.
Pain makes me mean.
And cranky, whiny, nasty, petulant, vindictive and horrid. I believe I'm even putting off a mean smell. Or it could be the boiled egg I devoured in two bites so I would have time in my lunch hour to pound out this post (I'm just now finishing it at midnight). I believe the boiled egg and the not quite right cottage cheese that I ate six miserable bites of were conspiring to force me to inject a little sugar into my blood stream. I must admit that with each Milk Dud that passed my lips later in the day, a piece of my pain seemed to fall away.
My stupid thumb hurt all day. I was holding my pen funny when I have to write. Funny, today I thought I'd sit down and fill out some forms I've been dawdling over. Each time I begin, I note that I'm holding my pen like a pre-schooler, get disgusted and toss the forms aside to find yet another way to procrastinate. And yes, it does hurt a little to type, but it's so worth it to have a chance to fuss about this.
Of course all of this could have been avoided if I'd simply gotten off my ass and sought out the nail clippers and trimmed the too-long nail. Now I suffer the consequences of my inaction. Even simple things like trying to button my pants or grabbing my coffee cup from the car cup holder cause me pain and remind me that sometimes, it's okay to listen to the voices in my head.....
But really, this is about more than my sore thumb. I'm not sure what it's about, except maybe I am just like my thumb. Hurt, raw, a bit down to the quick, exposed, hyper sensitive. I knew last night that there was some whispering, nagging, niggling nasty sitting on my shoulder, poking small, barbed things into my ear and taking tiny chunks out of my shoulder with its jagged teeth. That little bastard gremlin needs to skedaddle. I've got a busy next few days and the last thing I need is his foul breath puffing into my face and making me itch.
Let's just hope the voices in my head go back to reciting funny limericks in faux British accents....
P.S. I do not believe it is hormonal. It may be related to being a woman, more specifically a mother, but no. Not hormonal. Entirely. Oh, fuck it. Maybe. Where's the chocolate?