Yesterday, I was--fore the most part--pleased with the efficiency of my day. I plowed through homework, ran errand, exercised, was an all around nice guy to everyone. And then at the very end of my day, my little pinky finger caught the edge of my desk drawer while it was returning to its rightful position, and then:
Owww! That frickin' hurt! Damn desk! (I was trying to keep my language under control--its a new concept for me.)
And why did God let me slice my pinky open at the end of a perfectly good day?
Maybe it was to remind me that I am not perfect, that I am invulnerable to the powers of nature and cannot even keep the skin on my little pinky from breaking open.
That hurt, but thanks God.
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