THE ADVENTURES OF THUMBIE

As I may have mentioned, I have a tendency to fall down, and/or to hurt myself in minor ways. This is the result of being distracted and preoccupied, and although this particular event took place in the liquor store parking lot, I promise I was entirely sober, as it was 9:30 Friday morning. I do not say this self-righteously, but only to waylay any confusion.

I was headed up to the cottage, hoping to avoid Thanksgiving weekend traffic. I had just left the station, made a pit stop at Loblaws, and was rushing into the Queen’s Quay LCBO. Looking at my watch on my left arm, I reached back to swing the car door with my right, but somehow my hand got ahead of the door, and it slammed on my thumb. And locked.

I will spare you the gory details, but somehow I managed to unlock the door, stagger into the liquor store, and ask the woman at customer service for some ice. At least that’s what I heard I did, because I don’t remember. I somehow ended up in the stock room washroom slumped over the sink watching the blood go down the drain, which is where John found me. Apparently I managed to call him, and he left some big fancy meeting to come rescue me, because that’s what you do when you are a good man married to a klutz.

I would like to tell you that that’s the only time he’s had to lead me out of a liquor store at 10 in the morning in tears.

So my thumb. It’s not broken, but it is very definitely smashed. The doctor wrapped it up, gave me a tetanus shot and some painkillers, and told me to keep it rested and elevated. Easier said than done on a Thanksgiving weekend with 7 house guests and 12 for dinner, but that’s what I did. Aidan did most of the cooking, under my direction, and I sat around not twiddling my thumbs. In fact, I made a photo essay, which I will present to you here. The production values are terrible, because a) I had to do everything with my left hand, and because b) I’m not talented that way. So here we go: