Well, this is a bit of a challenge, isn't it?
Nine fingers. It's the Little Piggy Who Weeweewee's All the Way Home. On the left side. Efficient knife skills - NOT.
I tried to cut butter from what has to be the largest cube of butter ever. I mean, if there's such a thing as a butter sculptor, this would be heaven. It somehow almost makes me think perverted things but I'm not sure exactly what.
This really highlights the fact that I am totally, completely left handed and utterly useless as a righty. Already a world-class klutz, I am sprinting into Olympic quality gawkiness and/or dropping of items. Or I try to use the four fingers on the left side of my hand to my advantage. They miss their pinky friend.
My work shoes had diarreah. (That is really not how to spell that.) I'm not sure how they got it but when I wiped the soles off, this green ick trapped in flour came off. I fed them a Tums and hopefully they will be better tomorrow. Otherwise, they're going to have to take a sick day and I will be forced to wear the ones where the insole is paperlike in its thickness, needing a new one like the morning needs sunshine.
Third day of dragon touch-up, still no digital camera since mine took a dump. I tapped out after three hours instead of the scheduled four. Turns out you really must eat something at least within 36 hours before getting one of these things. I started to bonk only about one hour into it. But did I tell Michael anything? No. That would be wimpy. I was just shaking so badly that I nearly took him out at the knees when I tripped over the chair I was trying to get out of.
That would be bad. Not only incredibly rude but it would put off my tattoo for quite awhile. ( just kidding)
But then he hit the pinched nerve. I really thought I could stick it out. I mean, I just finished Ironman Arizona when 20 percent out of the field dropped out because of the wind and heat!! Certainly I could make it through one more hour.
When the color and light started swirling around and I started to sweat pretty much like the finish of the aforementioned Ironman, I decided to call it. I could swear the color drained from my face so fast that I got the Bends.
It would really have been a bummer to take Michael down at the knees while passing out at the same time.