Is my finger broken? Is my finger not broken? Is it sprained? Or have I just pinched a nerve?
The answers to these questions I just don't know as the damn thing continues to throb in pain. And although I can move it, it's not exactly the thing I want to be doing right now, for when it comes to pain, I have a very low threshold. (AKA, I want my Mommy ...)
How I ever managed to sit two plus hours in a tattooist's chair, I have no idea. Especially on the damn outline, cause that hurt like hell. (Need you an example, imagine if you will, a thousand bee stings all in the same place for an incredibly ridiculous length of time.) And yet, if I had a choice to do it all over again, I would sit in that chair making every sour face known to man, ignoring the fact that the old man doing the artwork was intent on trying to grab my ass. (My tattoo not anywhere near my ass for those of you were wondering ...)
Anyhow, I'm giving the finger two days to feel better before I perform finger splint surgery on myself. Like McGuyver, I figure all I'll need are some popsicle sticks, dental floss, and some silly putty to put things right.
("Drew" as in Nancy Drew. Any similarity to anyone actually named Stacey Drew is purely coincidental.)
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