Ok, firstly, fucking OW!.
I’m sorry that going on about a papercut is a cliche of all moany British things like the weather and I’m sure that lots of internet diaries or blogs are full of people moaning about how much they hurt.
But fucking hell, I’m in agony. All becuase the stupid photocopier at work keeps thinking I want A3, well, I don’t I never want A3, but if I do I’ll bloody well ask for it.
So my hand goes down to pick up the paper and find the extra A3 where it shoudn’t be and my little finger gets a deep (prob about 3mm) and long (maybe a third of an inch*) papercut that bleeds and hurts and I don’t like it.
But I’m not going to go on about how surprising it is that they hurt so much. It is not surprising, we all knonw it hurts.
But to rub salt into the wound, I was cooking my din dins (jacket potato, still on the crazy health kick) and was rubbing some salt into the skin as is my wont and I ended up rubbing salt into the wound.
Sorry this entry is a bit erratic I’m in pain.
And it’s my mums birthday, happy birthday mum.
*see how I mix imperial and metric measurements with gay abandon? I am rock and roll.