Thanks to my awesome internet stalking capabilities, I’ve been in very recent contact with my little step-cousin, Josh. He’s not so little anymore, considering he’s 19 and halfway through his freshman year of college, but since I taught him to swear at the toddling age of two while in my grandparents’ spare bedroom, I think I still get the right to call him little.
In any case, he’d recently apologized for some crappy typing because he’d cut his hand. I read the email and rolled my eyes, because really, how can cutting your hand have anything to do with the quality of your typing?
My opinion of that quickly changed today right after I ripped the fingernail of my left ring finger a little too far down. It bled for a minute and now even the slightest amount of pressure makes me wince in pain. Mainly when I type letters like p or l or o, since I’m a proficient typer with my hands always in home position.
I could also tell a story about Riley shitting all over the place, but it could be breakfast time when you’re reading this, so I’ll save you the details until after his vet visit. I just hope his (and my) favorite vet is there, so he’s a little more comfortable when they poke and prod around things that shouldn’t normally be poked into on an 18 month old puppy.