Remember that time I gave myself a third degree burn while making rice? Good times. Or the time I fell in the ocean while I was holding Porgie? Good times. Well I have a new one for you. I nearly broke my damn finger while doing laundry yesterday.
It all started out innocently enough. I carried a load of laundry down to the basement and tossed it on the floor in front of the washing machine. I flipped the lid open and reached down to grab the dirty clothes. But before I could pick up any of the clothes, the lid slammed back down onto my poor little pinky finger. It hurt like a motherfucker. I stood there, waving my gimpy finger around, and cursing like a sailor. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. So painful.
After I calmed down, I noticed that my finger was swollen and purple. Here is some photographic evidence...
I can still bend my finger, so I guess it is not broken. But holy cow, DO NOT TOUCH MY FINGER, because it really hurts.
Obviously, doing the laundry is entirely way too dangerous for me. Therefore, I think my husband should assume responsibility of this household chore. The end.