I have a cut on my finger

This provides a look into my shallow little soul. No, the cut isn’t that deep (neither is my soul). It is just a paper cut.

My first thoughts when I cut my finger, after I yelled, “SHIT!” was, “Fuck me, now it’s going to suck shampooing my hair.”

Despite the irritation, the way the tiniest flap of skin rubs against my pinkie nail (the cut is on the outside edge of the ring finger on my left hand), the constantly little ache as I type, or the fact that it could get become infected with staph and the result could ultimately result in my skin falling off like a gruesome nightmare like my not-my-aunt-Dottie … it’s the shampooing my hair that really concerned me.

Left uncovered, the cut will snag every piece of fine, long hair on my head and cause me to wince.

If I cover it with a Band-Aid, then I’m in even worse shape as not only will the covering catch even more hair, but it will impede my finger mobility for ultimate head-massaging action to achieve suds.

Motherfucker.

This morning I took a shower and shampooed my hair.

And it was as bad as I thought.

Paper cuts. Major. Suck.

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