I lurve this yarn. It’s Manos del Uruguay, which I had heard good things about, but I’d never seen it in the flesh until this past Saturday, when I investigated a new-to-me local yarn shop. I quite enjoyed working up the pattern, as I adore the colorway and the yarn is so very pettable that I’m starting to wonder if I’ll be wearing the scarf year-round…
The subject of the post that follows could be considered rather trivial, but nothing seems trivial when you have the cold-flu-ickies.
I drove home from working at my internship on Monday and was in a bit of a hurry to grab my bookbag and haul it over to campus to help one of my friends with an assignment, so I was running up the stairs to my apartment. I was at the halfway mark when several splinters from the wooden railing jabbed themselves deep into the base of my thumb. I cursed a bit (rather loudly), went inside to look for some tweezers, and managed to get two of the three splinters out of my thumb. The third occupied a much larger portion of my week than it had any right to.
I called my friend to tell her that I was going to be late, and she offered to come pick me up. She arrived, I mentioned the splinter, and we spent a good 15-20 minutes trying to get it out of my thumb, but it wouldn’t budge. Two days later, the miserable thing was infected despite numerous applications of antiseptic, so I headed over to the campus clinic. The doctor on duty made some comments about the decidedly non-sterile conditions of the examination room at the clinic and made an appointment for me at his regular office for this morning.
I got there at an hour that was entirely too early for sane people to be awake, filled out the paperwork, and waited my turn. I was led into an examination room and waited some more. The doctor arrived, nurse in tow, and they started prepping for a miniature operation, which I watched with mixed impressions of “They’re so serious!” and “All this for a splinter?”. Finally everything was ready…the tray was all nicely lined with tools, my hand was soaked in iodine, and the doctor had a gown on and magnifying lenses over his glasses. He put a shot of local anesthetic in my thumb, cut the entry wound a bit wider, and pulled out a teensy little piece of wood. I said, “That’s it?”. He said, “That’s it.” I asked, “All that fuss for that little thing?” He said, “Well, it’s infected, and you’d better come back for an x-ray if there’s still any pain at all on Monday, because that would mean there’s still another piece in there.”
All that fuss for a little 1/8″ by 1/8″ fragment of wood. I think I may be a wuss.
