A Sinister Gourd
Julie got THREE stitches today! She came by them honorably. The injury happened during a knife fight with this wily character:
Now, I didn't see what happened, so let's talk about me...
This morning, I said goodbye to everyone and drove to work. Once at work I did work things. For example, I found a way to unlock additional mustaches in the brostache app on my phone. After that, I think I did a bit of typing. I probably compiled something.
Then, a meeting! I had just gotten done explaining why I was always compiling things and why I thought I had a good bit more compiling to do before everything would be sufficiently compiled. The boss jumped up for an unscheduled trip to the latrine, and my phone rang.
Utilizing an office protocol loophole that allows receiving phone calls while the boss is in the can, I answered.
On the other side of the phone was none other than my loving wife. In her calm, normal voice she explained, "So, I cut myself."
Knowing her, I was suddenly trying to work out how she managed to call me without fingers. Without hands! Did she nose dial!? Maybe she still has one arm, but how could I tell which arm over the phone? She obviously hadn't given me enough information. This was probably a sort of game where she wanted me to guess. However, I was at work and I wanted no part of her silly mutilation guessing games. Not on a Thursday. I had compiling to do.
I curtly responded, "How bad is it?"
Well, she wasn't sure. That triggered my "if you don't know how bad it is, you probably need a doctor" policy and I told her I was coming home.
By the time I arrived at home she had already used internet advice to determine that she should really go get some stitches. It was decided that the right place for her was definitely behind the wheel of a car and I hung out with a voracious Greg while she drove herself over to our doctor's office (it's about five blocks away).
For the next hour: Greg. Ate. Constantly. We were prepared for this, but the dude set a new record. Maybe he was worried about his Mom?
While Julie was away, my cousin Lindsey happened along with gifts of dinner and cookies. Epic good timing Lindsey! Here's what happened next:
Julie told me that the folks that patched her up were very impressed by her stoicism. It will hurt and she'll need to get the stitches out in a week, but we're probably in the clear for keeping the arm.
I should mention that, even though that squash wounded her, she cut that thing in half. By the time I showed up, it was only held together by a thread. Then, we ate it. We also ate the cookies.
For thousands of years the acorn squash was known only as küche mörder. We believed them finally domesticated. We were wrong.
Now, I didn't see what happened, so let's talk about me...
This morning, I said goodbye to everyone and drove to work. Once at work I did work things. For example, I found a way to unlock additional mustaches in the brostache app on my phone. After that, I think I did a bit of typing. I probably compiled something.
Then, a meeting! I had just gotten done explaining why I was always compiling things and why I thought I had a good bit more compiling to do before everything would be sufficiently compiled. The boss jumped up for an unscheduled trip to the latrine, and my phone rang.
Utilizing an office protocol loophole that allows receiving phone calls while the boss is in the can, I answered.
On the other side of the phone was none other than my loving wife. In her calm, normal voice she explained, "So, I cut myself."
Knowing her, I was suddenly trying to work out how she managed to call me without fingers. Without hands! Did she nose dial!? Maybe she still has one arm, but how could I tell which arm over the phone? She obviously hadn't given me enough information. This was probably a sort of game where she wanted me to guess. However, I was at work and I wanted no part of her silly mutilation guessing games. Not on a Thursday. I had compiling to do.
I curtly responded, "How bad is it?"
Well, she wasn't sure. That triggered my "if you don't know how bad it is, you probably need a doctor" policy and I told her I was coming home.
By the time I arrived at home she had already used internet advice to determine that she should really go get some stitches. It was decided that the right place for her was definitely behind the wheel of a car and I hung out with a voracious Greg while she drove herself over to our doctor's office (it's about five blocks away).
For the next hour: Greg. Ate. Constantly. We were prepared for this, but the dude set a new record. Maybe he was worried about his Mom?
While Julie was away, my cousin Lindsey happened along with gifts of dinner and cookies. Epic good timing Lindsey! Here's what happened next:
Because "more cookies" is always the right answer.
Julie told me that the folks that patched her up were very impressed by her stoicism. It will hurt and she'll need to get the stitches out in a week, but we're probably in the clear for keeping the arm.
I should mention that, even though that squash wounded her, she cut that thing in half. By the time I showed up, it was only held together by a thread. Then, we ate it. We also ate the cookies.
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