Broken hand, broken promises

My broken hand seems less broken.

It's only partially discolored now.

I have nice movement in my wrist, index finger and thumb; I can eat with a utensil but I cannot write.  I can hold my phone, but not a hairbrush or toothbrush.  I can turn on the car radio but not the car fan, and I held a hamburger tonight.

So the question arises, can I type?

My first attempts today went poorly; my hand turned colors and tweaked and I freaked out.

Dr. Eric to the rescue!  Amazing how two words spoken by a hand surgeon erase all the google knowledge you just gorged on.

After I got the clear that it was normal, I had to finish my articles, now a week overdue.  I used Jessica's essential oils, rubbing them where she said.  While the ones for bruising and pain seemed to

make no difference, I noted an immediate change using "In Tune" for mental focus. Determined, I relearned the keyboard with eight fingers instead of ten.

Hmmm...I really did stay focused.

Finishing the article was a major thing: it had been pushed back by the break and I was concerned it hadn't gotten done.  Editing it, I was pleased to feel any easy flow.  Even David might give it a passing grade.

David's profile picture.

My productive day halted with that dreaded call from school-a sick child.  

Ear infection from that creek swimming yesterday.  3 hour wait.

I called my dad, who came and sat with her while I met with Tom, a local contractor and owner of Renovations.

Are you AWESOME in sales?  Tom needs a new salesperson!

My business complete, I relieved my dad.  Parry saw the PA, and I we picked up Charlton. We met the King at the movie theater.

Loving me some Captain!!

We all loved Avengers:  the age of Ultron.  Coming home, we picked up Parry's prescription and dropped off a check.  The day was over.

No exercise.  Not one squat.

A broken promise.

Sigh.