Feeling like doing a pretty thorough job on my house today, I mopped my floors. I stood back, mop in hand feeling good about a job well done. AHHH, time to wring out the mop before putting it away. I have a cheap bee-mop knock off, so you have to pull the handle up to lower the two rollers that wring out the sponge head.
OW OW OW MOTHER****ING OW!
Somehow, my right pinky finger decided to seperate from the group and wander under the spring loaded handle, wherein it became trapped. The worst part was the awkward way it was stuck not only caused my hand itself to be applying pressure, but made it very hard to get the proper leverage to open it and free my injured digit.
OMIGOD, I actually had to shoo my daughter away as I fought nausea from the extreme localized pain in my fingernail. It reminded me of the time a very tame (and mischievous) scarlet macaw decided to play crack the nut with my index finger.
I now have a bruise running completely around the top of my finger, and the nail is darkening ominously.
Darn It! My nails were finally growing pretty strong after finally quitting chewing them.
