injury time
(june 23, 2002)

listening: untouchable face ani difranco, halo texas
about to read: post-mortem patricia cornwell

Must be the World Cup fever with gorgeous international men falling right and left in the span of ninety minutes with all sorts of sprains and injuries, and not wanting to feel left out (despite not being a man, much less radiating any amount of dexterity when it comes to handling balls -- I know what you're thinking, you dirty-minded person you, but sadly that's true also), I too have somehow managed to sprain my right wrist a couple of days ago. I wish I could say I got hurt in the middle of doing something heroic, like rescuing a kitten from a tree, or at least sports-related, like being bashed into a pulp by the opposing team who hasn't heard of the concept of losing gracefully, because I was the unexpected, messy-haired shining star who scored that winning goal during extra time (a bit like that Korean player, Ahn-something-something, who got sacked by his own Italian team later. Oh the irony!)

Nope. I sprained my wrist while...doing the dishes. Sigh. I think this has simply brought my domestic incompetence to a whole new level. Seriously. How could one possibly sprain one's wrist while doing the dishes? How much danger could one be exposed to while cleaning some plates and spoons? I wasn't even washing anything sharp, or connected to the mains outlet, like butcher knives or blender blades or the blender itself.

Thankfully (always a silver lining!) it's my right wrist. Being left-handed, it is rather a relief. But still this whole freaking world is designed against me, so I'm still having trouble with tasks that you right-handed people have so mindlessly taken for granted, never once considering and being thankful for their instinctive ease and unawkwardness, like opening doors, holding the mouse, wearing a shirt with buttons, wearing pants with buttons (I could go on and on).

I couldn't eat rice with my hand (down here in Melbourne I'm still a Malay) last night without having to contort my entire right arm and grimace in pain so finally I gave up and ate rice with a fork. My housemate suggested getting a bandage around my wrist.

Cons of using bandage:
i) would make already difficult tasks, like wearing pants to maintain what's left of my modesty, even more difficult.

ii) I could be out a few bucks in order to buy myself a bandage. Given my current financial condition, this is highly unfavourable.

Pros of using bandage:
i) I could get better sooner.

ii) I will no longer accidentally twist my wrist in angles that would cause me immense pain and make stupid grimacing faces in front of people.

Major bonus point: Sharleen Spiteri had her wrist bandaged during that Texas concert in Paris. So, in addition of paving my way to wrist health, I could also look like a cool rock star!

Later today: I am out fourteen bucks and feel like a rock star.

Think I'll stop now. Typing is hard with this thing.


previous entry: not quite fiction (pt7) (june 18, 2002)