Yesterday, while spelunking in my tupperware cabinet for a pitcher to make iced tea, I cut my elbow on the latch that makes the door babyproof. Let me tell you, it freaking hurt! A lot. And, in true Jana fashion, I cut myself on the part of my elbow that I can’t see except when using a mirror. Do you know how hard it is to stop the bleeding when you don’t even know where the blood is coming from?
At first I wasn’t concerned with the blood (mainly because I didn’t know I was bleeding). I was only concerned with how much it hurt. My elbow was throbbing, I was screaming at the latch for being a fucking asshole, I was yelling at husband for putting the pitcher all the way in the back of the tupperware cabinet (he wasn’t home to hear my tirade, however), and I was berating myself for being so dumb for cutting my elbow on a latch! That’s been there since we bought the house! But mainly, I just wanted it to stop throbbing. That’s when I decided it was probably a good idea to go look at the wound.
I knew I had cut my elbow, so I started inspecting it like a detective inspects evidence at a murder scene. But I couldn’t find the cut. I knew it was there; I had the pain to prove it. Since I couldn’t see it without looking like a dog chasing her tail, I went to the bathroom to use the mirror. And sure as I’m short, there was a bleeding gash on the one part of my elbow that I can’t see myself. I grabbed some tissues to prevent any more blood from seeping out of my arm and cleaned the cut. But it still hurt a lot. Because of the location of the cut, I had to just deal with the pain. Putting on a band-aid was impossible without some Cirque du Soleil contortionist shit so I just tried to stop bleeding and went about my day.
Then, like the flux capacitor came to Doc after he hit his head on the toilet, it hit me. The cut on my arm was just like my spending.
