Well it just gets better. Yesterday, not satisfied with the level discomfort from my tooth, I decided when preparing and sharpening a very sharp Chinese chopping cleaver thing, to test its edge against me index finger. It turns out it is indeed very sharp and I now have a slashed finger wrapped in a bandage to head off death by blood loss.
This disability is proving irksome, as my sister and her husband are coming up from London tomorrow and I have been assigned the bathroom to clean, as part of the, lets pretend our house is always so fucking clean.
I have received slightly less than fuck all sympathy and no matter how many times I pull a truly sad and suffering face to evade this fate, it falls on deaf eyes.
"You still have the use of most of the hand" is the best I got.
So, toothache and a wound that would fell a bear, but I still have to do stuff.
As you can imagine, I am not kicking my height, which is probably a good thing with my luck or it would be, toothache, a horrendous cleaved finger and a torn hamstring.
She would still make me limp in there and clean the fucking bog.
Wheres the trust?
