Right: I cut the shit out of my hand this evening. Oh ho ho, you say. How bad could it be? Well, I just spent the past two hours at St. Vincent’s, getting stitches. I am such an asshole. Who picks up glass when it falls? The answer is: ME! I pick up glass! Shards of glass! With my bare hands! Because I am super smart!

Jeezy creezy.

Published by Jen Hubley Luckwaldt

I'm a freelance writer and editor.

8 thoughts on “Injuries

  1. You’re not an asshole, but being slightly crocked probably did not improve your judgment. *sigh* Poor Jennie SMASH!

  2. On the bright side, once it heals you can tell everyone that you got the scar during a passionate drunken evening in Andelucia, when you seduced a famous Matador (we’re not naming names) and he accidentally knicked you with his very big sword.

  3. Oh no! How many stitches did you get? I don’t mind stitches so much. Not since they stapled my head. For reals.

  4. How did you get to the hospital? Did you have to call the ambulance to get you, or did you gush onto the subway?

    And how many stitches did you end up with?

    All things considered, you should probably unpack the dustpan and broom until you’ve got everything ready to go. :p

  5. Hey, yo: The details are that I actually only have the one stitch, but it’s basically holding my hand together. OK, not really, but it feels like that. And I have a huge bandage.

    Anyhoodle, I’ll post with the full emergency visit story soon.

  6. Hey, at least you’ve got one less box labeled “unbroken glasses” to move..?

    (but one more labeled “stitch care and accessories”. Good point. Damnit).

  7. Stupid stuff happens. Me? I tried to catch a falling propane lantern. Tip for those thinking of doing the same: It Burns!

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