So, I’m sporting a few battle wounds from the war that is life. If you don’t like ouchies and blood, don’t read this… Joseph.
Left hand, index finger: 2 cuts. One is a paper cut, like one of those really thin, shallow ones that slice your skin, but don’t draw any blood. The other is a product of a frustrating session in the printmaking studio in which I grazed my finger with a carving tool. That cut isn’t too bad either.
Left hand, middle finger: one cut. This is just dumb. After cutting myself once in the studio, I promptly forgot to keep my left hand safely behind the lethally sharp carving tool and I stabbed my finger with it. If you look at it, it sort of looks like a flat plain punctuated by a lone volcano, and that volcano is a flap of skin. It bled a lot, and because I’m an idiot and had to pause the show I was watching on Hulu, the blood was dripping all the way to my elbow before I made it to the sink. This cut has recently semi-recovered and is now bandage-free. Also, I cut the volcano off with a pair of fingernail scissors.
Left wrist: one cut. Mystery cut from a different session in the studio. I sort of just noticed a bit of red on my wrist and thought it was some red ink, it wasn’t. It’s starting t o scar, but at least it never even hurt.
Back of head: one lump and one bump. The bump is a mystery, feels a little like a bug bite. Only thing is that it’s winter and there aren’t really any bugs around (except maybe that one fly that Annie somehow unburied in the snow while we were making our fort). The lump is big, around quarter sized. I sort of smashed my head into a wall corner (because my room is not a perfect rectangle and there’s an odd two-inch bump out by my bed) in an effort to escape being tickled. Luckily, I’m not prone to headaches, so I’m only suffering the dull pain of bruise caliber.
Well, that’s all. And now that it comes down to it, it really wasn’t much to complain about. Not that I was complaining either. Just sort of observing my perpetual state of injury.