Calamities anyone?

It's been awhile since we had a good calamity post around these parts so, I thought; Why not?  Who can't use a little calamity fun every now and again?  Of course I would have enjoyed, as I am sure you dear reader would have too, adding pictures to this post but alas (or alack?) my card reader has gone missing. So, for today we shall have to make do.  We shall have to use our imaginations.  I think I had one of those imagination things once....how about you?  But wait, let's not hop down that rabbit just yet, I have calamities to discuss.

As to the whereabouts of afore mentioned card reader, I am bewildered. I am positive I stuffed it into the camera bag so that I would be assured of finding it the next time I needed it.  It was not here ...it was not there. I could not find it anywhere. I could not find it Sam I am. IT can't be found of this I'm sure. (Sorry, too much Dr. Seuss) Even the children tout, "It was Notme!"  Seriously, if I get my hands on Notme there will be words. Lot's of words. I am pretty sure the culprit is the youngest child and that the card reader is living out a second life as a weapon of some kind. In the dirt no less.

The most recent of tragedies is the strange and as yet, undetermined loss of the use of one of my fingers.  (Could that have been a more confounded sentence?) The middle finger of my left hand to be exact.  Yesterday, upon waking I found it lying limply on the pillow next to my head. It stared up at me, all swollen and slightly cocked to one side.  I tried to move the finger and it refused.  It continued to refuse to work for the rest of the day.  When my darling husband came home and I cried over the loss of my finger he told me "It looks like its out of the socket. Pull on it."  (Yes, he actually told me to pull my own finger.) I looked down at that pathetic little-ish finger and decided against pulling. What if it was broken? What if I ruined my own finger?  I decided to baby it instead.  Today, my finger is still swollen and slightly cocked to one side.  Today, my finger still hurts like the dickens and is a funny purpley color.  I don't think its dislocated. Stupid finger.

My finger can take comfort commiserating with some of my other recently maimed body parts.  Why, just the other night as I was putting the house to bed, I was assaulted by not one but three calamities.  See if you can keep up......In the kitchen, the light switch is on the far wall as in; you have to walk clear through the kitchen to turn on the lights. This kitchen was designed by a man.  In my kitchen darkness+Katie=injury. And so it went.  I walked through the kitchen and turned off the lights, turned to walk out, tripped over a cooler, fell over a huge box of food, scrapped my shin, sprained my ankle and cussed a little in the process.

I limped my way to the wood stove to shut the dampers. I grabbed hold of the cast iron damper with my bare hand, at which time I heard my flesh sizzle.  The thumb of my right had was actually stuck to the cast iron and I had to yank it free.  I jumped back on my freshly injured ankle and cussed some more.  I considered rushing to the kitchen for ice but decided the bathroom was a safer alternative.

After dousing my crispified thumb with cold water I proceeded with my bedtime routine; tooth brushing.  This activity may not be as harmless as it may seem.  I have just had a crown place over a broken tooth.  I have had many, many, far too many visits to the dentist over this new tooth.  At present the crown is too short, meaning part of my raw, ravaged, sawed off tooth is still hanging out.  Standing at the sink, with tears in my eyes I gingerly began to brush. My leg is throbbing.  My thumb is throbbing.  I brush past the short crown and actually get the bristles of my tooth brush caught in the gap between crown and gum. At this point I let out a cacophony of cuss words that would make a sailor blush.  I turn, get tangled in a towel, loose my balance and grabbing a hold of the shower curtain for support,  I rip said curtain from its moorings.  I cuss some more. And stumble off to bed.


It was like a Charlie Chaplin movie with a Three Stooges flair.


So, today I am trying to take it easy.  I have my poor finger to consider. And darn near the whole rest of my body for that matter.