This is what can happen when you foolishly begin to think that it matters what the deep toe kick under your sink looks like. And I discovered what it looks like when retrieving a Squinkie last night and decided that I couldn’t do another thing until I’d scrubbed the whole area with a sponge. But instead of a clean toe kick, I now have half inch long sliver under my fingernail and only half a clean toe kick which in itself isn’t precious, but feels like adding insult to injury. So, if you, dear readers (you both know who you are) have any idea on how to remove said splinter please weigh in. Any advice ending with “and the doctor will have to remove your fingernail…” is not welcome and won’t be heeded. Unless you are a doctor and then I might think about it.
As I was laying in bed last night feeling sorry about my finger and massaging my blocked milk duct (which I warned my husband should absolutely not be mistaken for foreplay) I realized that I’m exactly nine days away from San Francisco and unfettered time with my husband and an end to my book fast. And in light of that, blocked ducts and really painful, really really painful slivers don’t seem such a big deal. Because as much as I hate leaving these people I adore, I think I’m due a little R and R. An idea reinforced this afternoon when Tess was playing house with her friend and had to put on her bathrobe so she could be the mom. Can’t wait.
So this is me. Looking for ideas on how to remove a splinter. Off to change into my sweats and settle in for a bit of Numbers reading. And wondering what your idea of a cozy afternoon looks like.