I am not perfect. I know, it may come as a shock to many of you. I forget things. If you ask my children’s teachers they will tell you that I forget a lot of things. I just remembered that I signed up to be chaperone for a school field trip to a farm. I’m sure that is real comforting for the parents of the children I will be guiding around a large tractor and hay bailer. Perhaps, I blocked out the trip because of the location. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a hard working farmer. I appreciate food that comes from farms, but why in the hell would I volunteer to chaperone a trip to a farm in June? I am sweating just thinking about it.
I don’t sweat because I am morbidly obese. It’s the hormones. Millie Vanilli blamed it on the rain. I blame it on the hormones. Don’t get me wrong, I won’t be walking the runway anytime soon. (Apparently, it’s not a good idea to eat handfuls of candy in bed minutes before you fall asleep.) Nor will I be a hand model. I have a crooked finger. I broke my pinkie moving a couch. It’s a long story. Do you have time? Actually, to summarize, I was moving the couch with someone, got mad and said, “I will do it myself.” My finger thought that was a bad idea. I race my children to urgent care when they sneeze. I would duct tape my own limb before scheduling an appointment with the doctor. I don’t have the time. So, I went to a drug store and bought a splint. It turns out doctors go to medical school for a reason. This is how it healed:
I should see a doctor to reset it, but the idea of intentionally breaking a finger sounds worse than an annual gynecological exam and that doctor uses what looks like BBQ tongs in your vagina. (Take a minute process that one gentleman. Yes, we earn the right to complain.) I suppose it could be worse. I could be ‘the kid with the baby foot hand.’ Who is that you ask? A co-worker (who shall remain nameless, but simply adores me) shared the story today of ‘the kid with the baby foot hand.’ No, this isn’t a Stephen King novel. He went to school with ‘the kid with the baby foot hand.’ My co-worker claims it is true and he is a trustworthy guy. Apparently, ‘the kid with the baby foot hand’ was injured by a lawn mower as a toddler. He lost his foot and the hand was beyond repair. According to the story, the doctor sewed his baby foot on to his arm. So, he grew to be ‘the teenager with a baby foot hand’ and eventually ‘the man with the baby foot hand.’ I would imagine one would relive that traumatizing day every time he opens an app with a baby toe. I am skeptical and rightly so. Perhaps, it was just a tall tale made up by a child born with a deformity. If that is the case, that kid is brilliant and has a good sense of humor. If the story is legit then the doctor who performed the surgery needs to be sent to the ‘funny farm’ and I won’t be volunteering for that field trip.