I didn’t post on Thursday (well I did attempt to), there is a reason for that! We are naming this week, “The Week I Nearly Lost My Finger”!
I am doomed when it comes to cars, I never get it right. With bills for grands worth of work, door handles that break two months after purchase, free fleas (yep I bought a car that had fleas), over heating engines, windows that blow fuses when you press the button for going up or down, exhausts that fall off (whilst driving!! That was scary!), exhausts that need constant repair and cars that will work at 6pm but not at 8am. I am a car salesman’s dream, show me a cheap, shiny, clean car and tell me it works fine and I’m sold. I have no clue what I’m supposed to be looking out for and trust far to easily. Anyway this isn’t how I nearly lost a finger!
I’ve decided either the car dislikes me because I tried to replace her, I mean she is the tiniest car and barely fits the four of us and a pram (although somehow we managed to fit golf clubs in too the other day), or Dan is trying to tell me he doesn’t want to marry me. So we go out for the day, get to the car park and begin the “emptying the car” routine, us out, Gracie out, pram out, coats on (normally it would continue, bag and finally Rue), I bent over supporting myself on the car, careful not to knock the bigger shiner car next to ours, reaching in for the bag… BANG!!!
I squealed! The squeal very quickly turned into a strange grunting full of fear, fear that today was the day I lose a finger and worst of all, my ring finger! Dan had slammed the boot on my finger, oblivious to what he had done, he asked me what was wrong whilst giving me an odd look. I took myself to my happy place and began breathing though the pain, I replied as calmly as I could “my finger”. He stood there a little longer just staring in disbelief that my finger was trapped completely crushed in the car boot, a car boot that you can only unlock with the keys or the latch inside the car.
Finally he asked where the keys are but obviously my thoughts weren’t focused on the location of those, I was chanting, which went a little like this “get my finger out, get my finger, get my finger out, fuck, fuck, fuck” and the occasional “oh, that hurts a little bit” chucked in obviously the “little bit” was an understatement. I had to clearly explain to Dan what he had to do (yes clearly explain because Dan would have started rolling on the floor and sliding across the car bonnet thinking he was a superhero!) I am now nearly passing out, which could have been the deep breaths filled with fumes from he carpark or the fact my finger basically cut in half!
The boot was released and both Dan and I were happy to see my finger in one piece! Dan laughed, I cried which turned into a laugh and then it turned into that really ugly laugh cry we do when our emotions aren’t sure whats going on anymore. I rang my Dad to ask him if this was a hospital moment, I’m not really a hospital fan (well I am, I think they are great for people that need them!) I just don’t like being a time waster. I decided not to go but since then, using my X-ray vision, I’ve diagnosed myself with a broken my finger. This week has been a painfully week but Dan has been great, he has done all the washing and washed up everyday, done all the cooking, basically cleaned the house from top to bottom and has also told me he will paint my nails.
I’ve also been told it highly likely my nail will fall off, which makes me feel rather unwell!
Let’s hope this week will be a little less painful!