Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Idle Hands...


Hand still hurts.  Can not move three of my fingers.

Wow, I had no idea how boring life without knitting is.  (How do knit-muggles do it?)

Have been perusing the Interwebs, pretty much demanding to be entertained.  Discovered that I neglected to read the latest Twist Collective (or to tell you about it, oops).  Here it is, my pretties.

My friend Chris has a pattern in there, because she is awesome.  And Twist Collective is also pretty awesome.  I'd say it's a match made in heaven.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

I do not need this right now

 

That is a photo of my right hand.  I was building a fire in the wood stove and a huge log fell off the wood pile and summersaulted (no, it did not gently roll - no, of course not) onto my hand, which was on the floor (I was kneeling on the floor when this happened and it happened in slow motion naturally, but I was powerless to stop it).  I think I flinched a moment before it landed and actually lined my hand up even more for total annihilation.  It actually crushed my index, middle AND ring fingers, but the middle finger got the brunt.  I jumped up and ran to the sink for cold water to pour it under (there was blood) and almost passed out when I saw how bad it was.

{I don't know what it says about me that my thought at this moment was along the lines of: "Holy CRAP, no wonder torturers pull out people's nails to get them to spill their secrets.  I'd sell my own grandmother to make this pain stop."}

I'm not good with pain, people.  In fact, you *could* say that I am a total wimp.  I have accepted this.  I can't bend the three fingers and the pain is radiating up to my elbow (but I don't think anything is broken) and when my DH (good man) put the ointment and bandage on it, I almost passed out a second time (there were stars).  The reddish-purple you see is not a trick of the light - those are broken blood vessels.  And the throbbing?  Oh, the throbbing...

How am I supposed to draft tomorrow at work?  Typing is near-impossible at the moment (it has taken me almost 30 minutes to type this) and writing with a pen?  No.

But, most importantly: how am I going to finish my Christmas knitting?

...

Oh.  My.  GOD.  I just realized why this has happened.  I could kick myself.

This morning, I was knitting and I said (out loud, because I am stupid and I momentarily forgot that the Universe was listening): "You know, I think I am totally going to finish this project in time to send it off for Christmas.  Huh.  I am awesome."

Pride cometh before the fall, my friends.  Let my suffering serve as a valuable lesson to you.  Never taunt the crafting fairies.  They take no prisoners.