I was in the local grocery store yesterday, I was reading the bulletin board, and someone was giving away a rooster free of charge.
I pointed it out to Michael and mentioned we could get some hens and have fresh eggs. He started laughing, and told me to re-read the flyer and if I really want it, it’s fine by him. He just wants my camera to take the video of me and the new rooster..
This is what the flyer said:
Free Rooster- it hates kids and women- if you want him he’s yours..
Later that evening;
I was typing with one hand while Michael was muttering and snickering.
Earlier, at sundown, I was pulling weeds in the garden. Uriah was wandering, sniffing around trees and piles of cut grass for rabbits, ground squirrels, and moles.
I saw a large clump of grass, about a foot high, next to the strawberries. With my tunnel vision turned on, I knew that area had to be cleaned out. I had only a few more minutes and then I would be pulling weeds in the dark.
Working quickly, and using both hands, I grabbed a handful of the thick, woody, very dry grass and pulled.
The grass stayed in the ground.
I tugged harder.
I had a very tight hold on that grass, as it slipped through my hands. It gave me an Indian burn and sliced along my palm and fingers.
Uriah had wandered back, and was sitting in front of me, when I made an odd sounding squeak. He jumped up, with a look that said. “Whatever bit you isn’t going to get me!” And he ran and hid under the deck.
One of those heavy blades of grass, had sliced my little finger open wide and very deep. I saw that with the first glance. Clutching my hand, I headed into the house.
Michael was on the Xbox, playing; Red Dead Redemption, when I walked in trying to not drip blood on the carpet. He kept looking at me like I was speaking a different language.
Calmly, while holding my left hand out in front of me in a tight fist, I said for the third time. “I think I cut my finger off with a blade of grass..!”
Then he started laughing. I was not amused!
Then he began describing how he had to have stitches on his finger years before.
If you don’t know, you will now. I am very phobic of needles and sharp objects! Really! Michael is use to me not freaking, just warning doctors who take blood, then I get up and run.
So here he is telling me how they stitched his hand. Deadened the area, laid it open, scrapped it clean, and used a sharp needle to sew him up, five stitches…Wow! I’m getting very dizzy writing this.
Michael kept saying, “Time for the ER!”
I insisted that it wasn’t bleeding that bad- it finally stopped two hours later.
Michael asked, “You’re not going to bleed to death on the couch are you?”
I was sort of positive I wouldn’t. No blood squirting on the walls and I was still awake, all was good!
“No! I’m fine! I am stronger than a blade of grass! It was really sharp!” I shook my head and held my hand tight.
I washed off my hands and danced around the kitchen. I realized later the stinging was from the Indian burns and slices on the rest of my hand.
“Are you sure, you’re fine?” He asked again.
“No problem!” I smiled a goofy; I’m going to pass out look if you keep mentioning how they stitch up your fingers! “All’s good. The finger is attached!” Even if it wasn’t I would just flap over the skin, and use some old fashion duct tape to hold it in place….
So no surgery for me!
Not even my pinky finger.
Time for leather gloves!
When I took Uriah out this morning I had a hard time looking at the grass. Each blade seemed unusually sharp today.:-(
I found this site on needle phobia.