.::still blinking::.

For my hundred and first blog entry, I am going to tell of an injury that I received yesterday.

I work for my uncle who is a foot doctor. I don’t do anything cool and I only see feet on myself and in magazines. I don’t see any actual work being done. I am just the medical filer.

Why, you ask, would I be doing such a job when I also am running my own business and trying to raise a toddler? Well, because I am a sucker and I cannot say no and they need help. They were kind enough to give me a job when I moved from Logan to Salt Lake and now I am doing one of the most boring jobs ever. Although it is not nearly one of the most disgusting jobs ever. I leave those to anyone who deals with any kind of poop, be it human or animal. Those would be the absolute worst, followed closely by gyno, who also must deal with poop on occasion, and is on call for the rest of their days. Also, I go in on the night of my favorite tv shows so instead of sitting at home being a human wasteland, I am at work being a human wasteland and getting paid for it. Logical.

Yesterday, I was in doing my filing when I got a paper cut. Not just your average paper cut, it was from a file folder, underneath my right index fingernail. You may gag now. This is one of those kind of injuries that everytime you think about it, your brain tries to fold in half and squirm out of your head. Like there is some kind of sensory overload. Have you ever put a snail in a baggy with salt and watch it squirm in total upheaval of its upcoming death? Neither have I, but it is the same kind of feeling. Actually, my old roommate Lori did that. I am only guilty of putting grasshoppers in the microwave. That is a quick death.

Now I cannot type correctly. I cannot use my finger pad like normal, I have to bring my finger to a point and use my nail. I doesn’t hurt as badly that way.