April was the last time I actually hauled myself to the laundromat, avec Jackson and 40 pounds of dirty clothes, and as a reward for my thrifty housewife ways I slammed my thumb in one of the dryers. It hurt like shit but it didn’t turn purple for about six weeks, and then about two weeks ago half the nail decided that it was time to fall off. Problem is, the other half of the nail wants to stay put, so I have this ugly, nasty, dead yellow Hobbit claw on one half of my nail that’s curling up and getting caught on everything my hand strays past — lacy stuff, wickery stuff, pubic hair — and the other half’s healthy and goddamned attractive.
BandAids, sure, but they look pretty fucking ragged after awhile. White bandage tape is better, but then every parsnip you run into says, “What happened to your thumb?” Finally, after he suggested it like 600 times, I did what Jack said and put some Krazy Glue over it. Jack used to work for a vet, and any time an animal had a nonlifethreatening wound the vet, knowing that the animal would just chew stitches right out, would squeeze a bunch of Krazy Glue into the wound. It’s sterile enough, I guess, and as the wound heals it just pushes the glue right out. Apparently pets are being glued back together in vet practices all over the world and I had no idea.