So whilst in the middle of cooking the daily bacon/crumpet/hashbrown/artery-killing morning feast, I hear a funny noise. I turn around to find a female nagging. I don't know why, I think it comes with the chromosomes. Nonetheless, I take pity and engage the ears.
Apparently she's worried about the way my swollen wrist hasn't gone down. Rubbish, my good lady I say, it's just a flesh wound! However she persists, until she pulls out her ace, and threatens to remove my pantry-grazing privileges. Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I'm half a kilo away from walking around desert tombs in bandages and attacking archaeologists at the best of times, so this presents a real problem for me. So I reluctantly hop on my trusty steed and rock on down to the A&E.
"Sir, the Xray shows you've broken the s-something or another - did this happen today?"
"Nah mate, Friday morning."
"Didn't you notice earlier?"
"Not really - thought it was a bruise."
So they throw a cast over my right arm/wrist and I tootle on home.
I was hardly surprised - as I've got surgery booked in for Thursday to remove all the metalwork and most of the scar tissue out of my left elbow, doing my right arm in really seemed to be about par for the course.
Here's hoping I have two functioning arms again soon!
Originally Posted by White trash
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...Full throttle till you see god, then brake.
Does this mean ill end up with 3 Hondas i dont own in the gargre next week?
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