Who gets injured doing laundry? I did, and I’ll have a scar to prove it. I cut the side of my left hand on my laundry basket, an unassuming white plastic object that turned on me. One of the cut-outs encircling the basket had a (razor) sharp edge and my epidermis took a beating.
I stood next to washers #13 and #14 (oh how city life mirrors the college dorm) bleeding and wondering how I’d ever be able to take care of a family when I couldn’t even defend myself against a stationary, lifeless piece of plastic.
While most would be quick to head back to their apartment to clean the cut (profound scrape), I experienced a contemplative paralysis, wondering if the accumulation of such domestically disastrous scenarios accenting my past (i.e. leaving on the gas stove, neglecting to dust anything above arms reach) would render me unfit to bear offspring. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t have baby fever. Not in the least. Not one iota. I just like to think about things well in advance. I’m an anticipatory fiend. Story of my life.
The wound is really tender, highly sensitive to sleeves during the putting on and taking off of clothes (leaving me debating whether I can just wear my PJ shirt to the office). It’s also a 2-part wound (when can something associated with me not be complex?) that looks like a semi-colon (;). This makes the grammarian in me smile and think that if I must be scarred, at least the indelible marking bears resemblance to something meaningful to an aspiring writer.
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1 comment:
my wounds from running (and falling) in Chicago are shaped funny, too. there is one dot on my palm under the pinkie and a larger dot under the thumb on my palm. what do you think mine is???? is it linked to being a guidance counselor?!
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