Thursday, April 23, 2009


Hubs is training for a triathlon and runs up a mountain near our house fairly regularly. He came in a few days ago and said "Don't freak out, but I fell." He was okay, but caught some gravel and scraped his hands up quite a bit, including the tips of his fingers. They all look pretty bad, but one in particular had the entire layer of skin, almost his entire finger print peeled off. I helped him clean up and bandaged him up while he grimaced the entire time. Poor guy.

Here is where the eye rolling part of the story begins. For the last few days, he has been pulling the injured hand card to get me to help him out. I had to scrub Little Guy up in the tub, because of his fingers. I had to take out the trash, because of his fingers. I had to put his hair gel in his hair, because of his fingers. Seriously. His hair gel.

Admittedly, his hands still look pretty gruesome. I am sure he is not bullshitting me. Still, I feel a little aggravated. He had the stomach virus a few weeks ago and the following week he left for a business trip. That brings us to this week with the running injury. As crazy as this makes me sound, it almost makes me wish I would get sick or bust my ass on a mountain, just so I could bow out of a few things.

Or maybe just take 24 hours away from home to spend the night, eat dinner out, and go to an Art Benefit with a girlfriend. Yeah, that's probably a better plan. And that is exactly what I am planning this Saturday.



Anonymous said...

I knew all that exercise was a bad idea! I've never once been injured sitting behind my desk or walking through the office (at least not physically!)- Amy

latisha said...

prepare for a long comment.

when we first moved to the desert my dad trying to beat drew's ass in sports as men do, took him on an epic mountain biking adventure in our little south mountain - at night. he came back bloody, everywhere, still has scars and im sure little bits of cactus in his body. he says he had fun despite the trail being lit up by irridescent scorpians and they have done it again, but with no blood. so as corny as it sounds, welcome to playing in the desert.

on a second note, i almost wrote a piece about 'man-sick.' when i was revising the vomit bit. you know the kind where with no visible symptoms they are writhing in pain and needy as hell? add a symptom or too and they're mamma's boys all over again - except im not your damn mom.

anyway. major sympathies your way. and jealousy. where's this art thing? and how do you have so many buddies here. we need to hang out. your too fun. and im bored. lame invite, but its late.