Djinns Strike Again

No posts for a whole week, and of all my loyal readers, neither one complained. Ah, well; while my ego sulks in the back yard, lemme say that my computer has been down. Plus I broke my finger. Ever tried to type with a big old splint on your pinky? You can only hunt and peck, so now I'm a real pecker. People've been telling me that for years.

My boat goes on my car, and I was working on the car so now they're a matched set: last year I broke a finger working on the boat. That time I just fixed it myself—can't afford doctors—but it came out looking all bent up and don't work so good (my finger; the boat's fine). Thanks to Beethoven I have insurance now, so this time I went.

Officially, I have lacerations that're stitched up, holes that're drilled in my fingernail, and a hematoma that's subungal. Say that three times real fast: subungal subungal subungal. It's a bungle when you drop a car engine on your finger, lemme tell ya. It was unhooked from everything and I had my hand on it and all of a sudden it just fell over. Probly a djinn pushed it, yo. I didn't see what happened but I noticed it right away, when there was all blood and gooshy stuff coming out.

So I went to the emergency room, and felt pretty silly sitting there with all the accident victims and puking people. And the biggest, bloodiest, accident victim of them all came and sat next to me there on the bench and he said “What're you in for?” and I held up my little pinky with its itty little white bandage, and I said “Squashed mah finger” and they all moved away from me there on the bench; but the doctors sewed me up and didn't laugh, and they shot me up so there was almost an hour there when it DIDN't HURT. Oooh that was nice. Especially in the drilling part. Now I'm home and getting real good at this recuperating stuff. The web's up again, sucking my time, and my evil plan is to make more blog posts. Pecking.