My Right Arm Wants Revenge

Remember when I burned my right arm with bacon grease and then said it wasn’t that big of a deal because my right arm was nothing more than a “symmetrically pleasing accessory”? Yeah, well, my right arm was apparently pretty offended by that. And by offended, I mean pissed. So pissed, that it wanted to take it’s revenge on me.

So, it let itself get stabbed by a paring knife while I was cutting cantaloupe. Totally on purpose. Sure, my right arm wanted me to think it was an accident, but I know better. I know that it wanted me to realize how much I need it. Or at least, how much I need the fingers attached to it, because the paring knife stabbed deep into my right ring finger and I had to go to the ER and everything. And it hurt. And it was almost impossible to type for about a week until it healed enough for me to put some pressure on it.

But my right arm wasn’t done yet, no. Once at the ER it practically begged the Doctor to give me a tetanus shot in it as well. And it was sore for days. FOR DAYS.

Message received right arm. I use you a lot more than I thought and I need you. I really really need you. Although, if I can just say, this was a pretty masochistic plan, effective sure, but probably a bit of an overreaction, no? Couldn’t you have just sent me an angry email?

29 thoughts on “My Right Arm Wants Revenge

  1. Bwahahahaha – leave it to you to make an agonizing experience sound like a hilarious anecdote. LOVE the last line. Can you imagine what your right arm might say in an angry email? I laugh again every time I think of it. You should write a blog on that email. I’m pretty sure I would laugh again.

    On the more serious side, I hope you are right as rain now. Hopefully your right arm has gotten its hissy fit out of its system and can go on with the job of being your strong right arm. Please refrain from offending any other of your body parts.

  2. ““If an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say in a pleasant and hopeful voice, “Well this isn’t too bad, I don’t have a left arm anymore but at least nobody will ever ask me if I’m left-handed or right-handed,” but most of us would say something more along the lines of, “Aaaaaa! My arm! My arm!” -Lemony Snicket.

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