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the start is
 My week went something like this: At work I spent the majority of the time blowing up balloons with my coworkers. The end result was having my boss' cubicle filled to the brim with orange balloons. He was in for a treat when he came back from his conference. The entire office reeked of latex for the rest of the week. I love my job! Wednesday, I saw the doctor for a finger infection. Recently, my left middle finger had turned a bright, moss-colored green. I googled finger infections, only to find lots of scary things about losing a finger and all kinds of foreign medical names for finger infections. Green on one's skin usually means all sorts of trouble. Freaked out, I decided to see the doctor about it. The nurse led me in, and I asked her what typically goes on with these procedures. She explained that it would need some cutting and draining, followed by some antibiotics. She then showed me a tray full of all sorts of medical instruments, all silver, sharp, and dangerous-looking like the ones you see in those medical dramas like Grey's Anatomy or E.R. After that, she smiled, walked out and left the door partly shut. Scared stiff of what was just shown to me, the reality of losing a finger came over me. I sat fidgeting as I waited for the doctor. What had felt like an eternity, was only a mere few minutes until the doctor came in. He ended up using a completely different scalpel than those shown to me by the nurse. WHY would someone do that to someone who is utterly dead terrified of needles, knives, and all things prone to stabbing skin in a medical environment?! One word: evil. I tried my hardest to hold back my tears, but being the pathetic coward that I am, I cried. He cut a little into my finger, but nothing dramatic enough for blood nor worthy enough to warrant further freaking out. I am happy to say I still have all ten fingers ...and my finger is back to its normal skin color. This is good news. Today, I found out that I am being hunted down by the university library for another overdue library book. Apparently, they were going to hold off on my graduation until I returned their book. I would also be owing them a good hundred dollars too if I didn't find it. So, I spent the day frantically searching for that book on Edith Head. Lucky for me, I found it and paid a $7.25 dollar late fine. That beats 100 dollars. Um..yeah.. I tend to have this chronic problem of not returning things that don't belong to me. I must admit to a horrible habit of misplacing things. Somehow these frequent run-ins with fines tells me that I don't belong at the library. Maybe I shouldn't be allowed within 20 feet of the library either. Next thing you know, they'll be posting those "WANTED" signs with a really badly drawn portrait of me around the campus for my flakey book returning history. Maybe I'll even get my fifteen minutes of fame on America's Most Wanted, too. |
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