Thumbs Down
The baby (let's call him 'Buddha') has a bed downstairs. It seems like a good idea until until early one morning, like three-o-clock earlier this week, and Buddha starts to cry. I drag my sleeping body down the stairs in the dark, holding on to the railing for balance. Holding on is not always the smartest thing to do. I miss the final step and fall, not far, but I yank the thumb on my left hand. Even after I get Buddha back to sleep, I am too much in pain to sleep myself. I never realized how much I needed a single digit on my weak hand until I could no longer use it. I thought, oh well, I can only masturbate with one hand for a while. But I can't even squeeze a nail clipper and groom my right hand. I guess digits are like people that way, all useful in their own right.