Today is

There is a papercut on the tip of my ring finger on my right hand. I can feel it now as I type. It looks like a teeny tiny cavern that gushes when I squeeze it. But this hurts so I don’t do it that much.

How did I acquire such a wound? I'LL TELL YOU!

Today is Thursday. Not nearly as dreadful as Wednesday but close to it. The weekend is but one day away, I am on the declining half of the week which heightens the desire for it to end.  Thursday, or at least this Thursday, feels particularly dull. I have decided (if you stalk my twitter) “today is a tired Day. I shall not be upbeat or energetic. I shall drag my heels and sigh repeatedly because I am #letired“  This of course references 'The End of the World' 

You should watch this as it will shed light on my emotions of the moment. And make you giggle. Unless you suck hardcore, then you’ll probably think ‘this shit is stupid, and poorly drawn. I hate poorly drawn free flashes’. For those people please stop reading my blog.

So it’s Thursday. A sucky one. We’ve gone over this, but I don’t think you quite understand the suck value. It’s not bad in any particular way. That, sometimes, makes it worse. Because there is nothing to induce blind scathing rage I can’t watch the time whisk away while I stomp, storm and fume about the office. I can’t wallow in self pity and sadness because nothing depressing has really happened. Nothing exciting – I might have to guilt my manager into letting me leave early today and next Thursday, but that will constitute the more ‘entertaining’ part of my day.

No this Thursday is nothing day. Until Five Whole Minutes Ago. It deserves capitals because nothing else but the day’s name is capital and goddamn I want some capitalization up in this.

I bet you have already guessed what happened five minutes ago.
Yes.
That’s right.

El Papier SLICE!

My ring finger looks normal, completely fine until you glance closer and see the ‘wafer thin’ line dividing my once perfect print. It cuts my finger symmetrically from the tip for about 4 mm down right across the top of the finger. (Yes I measured. Using my blue mini ruler. Jealous much? )

It hurts. Not an inexplicable pain that drives one into a fit of rage over the state of their pain and suffering. And not a sting either. It’s a dull, ache that becomes more faint when no pressure is placed on my thumb. Nothing to get mad about. I’m actually not even that annoyed.

BUT F$*K DID IT HURT WHEN IT HAPPENED!

 It felt like the stack of papers were ripping into my hand, the sting crawling up my arm forcing a shudder from every inch of my body. I could almost hear it, in the sense that you make a squinty face from the pain and for some reason creates an imaginary audio that isn’t there but you swear when going back you must have heard. That sound. The sound of you almost cursing at the top of your lungs because it’s so fucking annoying, but then you remember you’re at the office and the ‘new’ HR manager discourages swearing and the door to her office is less than 10 feet away from your tiny cubicle, her door open wide open where  you can hear her eating freaking salad long before lunch break has even started.

That and you’re not angry anymore after five seconds. Just a little pissed. And even that goes away. Now I’m having more fun poking it and it’s proved to be at least 500 words of distraction from this nightmare of a job.

Am I happy?

No. It’s Thursday. No one’s happy on Thursday. No one’s anything on Thursday. Besides papercut and le tired.