Warning - this post contains a gnarly photo. Stop reading if you don't want to see it.
This weekend I had big gardening and outdoor coop plans. Things that included finishing the chicken run so that I can keep the chickens from pooping on my patio. Seriously. I love my girls, but there are few things more gross than cleaning up compost scraps turned poo from under my patio chairs. Unless of course you slip in the poo when it's raining as you're trying to take out a container of slightly expired yogurt for the girls to enjoy. And if, when you slip in the poo, you manage to knock over the barbecue and dump ashes on yourself so that you're now covered in chicken poo and powdered with gray ash, AND if you manage to land on your pinky finger in such a way that when you sit up and look at your hand covered in yuck and ash you notice that it is now bent awkwardly at an unnatural angle and your first thought is, "Crap! I'm covered in sh&t!," closely followed by, "Crap! I think I broke my finger!"
Yep. That's grosser than just cleaning up chicken poo. And not recommended. A trip to the emergency room revealed it was not broken, but it was a severe dislocation.
Gross picture coming up:
Urban homesteading is dangerous. I'm just saying. And the actual finger looked way worse than it does in this photo. I wasn't really up for hand modeling when Super Hubby snapped this shot.
Resetting a bone is painful. It hurt worse than dislocating the finger in the first place. I'm in a splint now for anywhere between 10 days to 4 weeks depending on how I heal. You have NO idea how much you need your pinky until you can't use it.
My little Etsy store is on vacation while I recover. All the Easter crafting I had planned for The Boy and I is being reconsidered. Blogging will be sporadic at best. Gardening?
Maybe La Nina will hold on a few weeks longer and I won't feel as badly about not getting the seedlings out.
I'll be back soon. I pinky promise.