Painful Prose

Generally I find it fairly easy to write, but it’s painful to write these words—literally.

Two evenings ago, while hastily peeling a small potato, I managed to peel off the very tip of the middle finger on my left hand. The superficial wound bled a bit, but I finally stanched it by applying a gauze pad with prolonged pressure. The peeler has a serrated blade, and now the serrations are etched on the oat-sized, oval wound, which I have covered with a Band-Aid.

I'm happy to report that the healing is coming along nicely but not without irritation.

I’ve been typing for 55 years or so, and, until I suffered this minor injury, it's been decades since I have given any thought to which finger is responsible for which letters on the keyboard. Monday's mishap has reminded me that the left middle finger reigns over the “c,” the “d” and, significantly, the all-too-common “e.”

As I say, this is painful to write, as in w-r-i-t-e (wince).

So I’ve backed off posting in the last two days. I figure it'll be the weekend before I’m more or less back to pain-free prose. Pain-free for me at least.