My dog child and my human child conspired against me once again.
Yesterday morning, Alex was on the precipice of a "Dont waaaaaanna leave" meltdown, and he was insistent on giving the dog a treat before we left. In the interest of the sanity of all parties involved, I agreed to said treat. And since he had been gearing up for a meltdown, we were slightly running late. So I ripped the lid off the chicken jerky canister, handed Alex a piece and spun around to put the lid back on.
In my rush, I didn't properly calculate the height of my hand relative to the height of the bottom corner of the cabinet. The very hard, very right angled, very not rounded corner of the cabinet. This poor spacial judgement resulted in my middle finger smashing into the corner, the cabinet hitting just above the middle knuckle. I hit it hard enough that it was one of those injuries that just turns white for about five minutes and then the spot of impact gets brutally dark purple. As I sit here now, 29 hours later, it's still swollen and is slowly, but constantly changing colors. Fun! Kaleidoscope finger!
Any way, back to how this is not my fault. Obviously, there is no way those two little assholes didn't realize my clumsy ass would hurt myself whilst rushing for a dog treat. They are obviously trying to take the matriarch down. I'm on to them.
No comments:
Post a Comment