Thursday 4 February 2010

...Like a sore thumb

The scar on your thumb, which you caught on a nail while taking down shelving, is bothering you. Each time you place your hand in your pocket, or slip on a glove (which is often, during this gelid weather) the scab catches, and a small amount of translucent fluid is secreted. You wonder if it is infected. You prod it and squeeze around it, but no – it seems fine. It's just a nuisance.
It could have been so much worse. You don't realise this, but if you hadn't caught your thumb on that nail, there would have been a much worse accident, so really it was lucky for you that the shelves needed removing.
Following the initial rejection, people told you that you took the news well. You were characteristically philosophical about it. 'It's a part of the job,' you declared, 'I'll bounce back.'
In fact, you felt fine in yourself: maybe a little more snappy with the children, perhaps a little quicker to frustration when dealing with phone calls, but nothing out of the ordinary.
Taking the shelves down from the wall should have been a fairly straightforward job. The problem was that the screws were very old, and so it was difficult to get a purchase with your electric screwdriver. After trying a number of different screwdrivers, your patience was wearing thin. Puffing, sweating and shouting expletives you threw down your screwdrivers and reached for the claw hammer. As the shelf finally ripped from the wall (along with the plaster behind it) it hit you on the side of the head, and a nail tore the skin at the side of your thumb (the thumb which has been causing you so much trouble of late).
The episode with the shelving was unpleasant, but it was a release. You can't deny that it shifted that little ball of rage that had been lying dormant within your rib-cage. And if it hadn’t been the shelves, then that fury would have found a way out somehow. Just think: you could have crashed the car, or punched your boss, or got drunk and picked a fight with an old friend. It could have been so much worse. Really. You should thank those shelves.

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