Thursday, November 25, 2010

When Was My Last Tetanus Shot?

The first part of the story took place on Tuesday morning. We’d ordered a new dining room set and had it delivered on Tuesday. The furniture delivery guys came and set it up in our dining room that I formerly described as Spartan. It used to be that we only had a table with 4 chairs in there. Now we have a table large enough for 10 chairs, a buffet and a china cabinet. I could totally hold a board meeting at that whomp-ass table now.

The house cleaning service was due to come on Tuesday afternoon. Todd hadn’t taken the dogs to work with him, like he normally does when the cleaners come. I went in to work around 1 and figured the boys could just hang in my car while I was in work for the remainder of the work day.

I left work at 5 and hit up the CVS on the way home to get a few things. Todd went to Bloodbath and Beyond to buy out the entire store in preparation for our “Thanksgiving a Day Late” festivities. I came out of the CVS ready to head home and ogle my new dining room before he got home. I inserted the key into the ignition, turned it, and nothing happened. I tried it again, nothing happened. I reflected on the money spent on a brand new starter, a brand new alternator and a brand new battery over the last few months and tried not to feel aggravated about the lack of vroom when turning the key.

I went into the store and called Todd on his cell and left him a message, “Hey love, my car won’t start. Will you stop at the CVS near the Home Depot Walmart compound and come help me? Thanks.” Then I sat in the car and waited, lamenting that I had left the house without a book.

He rolled in, driving his bitchen Acura. It was filled to the gills with bags from Bloodbath. He fished my jumpers out from under those bags in the backseat; the jumpers were still there from the last time the Jeep wouldn’t start, the week before Halloween. After an attempted jump, hitting the starter mercilessly with a plunger handle, purchased at the CVS, and jamming the screwdriver against the starter the car refused to start.

The dogs and I piled into the 3 square inches remaining in the Acura and we drove home, “Hon, it’s time for you to think about a new car,” he said.

“Ugh, I don’t want a new car. This one’s paid for, let’s just run it into the ground.”

“Sweetie, it’s aground. It’s time.” (Oh, and have I mentioned it flunked inspection on Monday as well?)

We took all of our new goods out of the car. Todd had bought new dishes, and all sorts of new kitchen toys in preparation for our party. We had a mountain of cardboard after unpacking. The recycling bin was already overflowing, and I knew that the prep for the party would create all sorts of recyclable waste.

On Wednesday morning I loaded the cardboard into the back of the truck to take to the dump on the way to work, and then I put our recycling bin in there too. At the dump I pulled up to the cardboard dumpster and unloaded the truck while I talked to one of the men who worked there. I pulled out the bin and hoisted it to the lip of the dumpster; my right hand was between the bin and the dumpster. I pulled my hand out and scraped the side of my index finger, from the tip to the knuckle.

The scraped off skin folded back, but the cut didn’t bleed. The dump guy asked if I wanted a band-aid, at which point I uttered the fateful words, “Nah, it’s not bleeding.” I set my bin into the truck, got in and drove off. A few seconds later, on cue, blood gushed from the cut on my finger. I searched the truck but had no napkins or tissues. Blood ran down the length of my finger, down the back of my hand and pooled near my wrist.

A few minutes later I pulled into the Walgreens in town. I scrambled to the door and found it locked. “We’re not open yet” the woman inside called out. I held up my bloody hand, she nodded and unlocked the door.

I thanked her as I rushed in. The first thing I saw was a Kleenex display. I held a box in my left hand and ripped open the top with my teeth. I grabbed a handful and wrapped them around my finger and made for the first aid aisle. Without breaking stride I grabbed a box of band-aids and that Neosporin spray stuff.

Once in the ladies room I washed my hands and saw the blood swirl into the bottom of the sink. The Walgreens lady came in and asked me if I needed help and hung out with me while I patched myself up, after ripping a band-aid open with my teeth.

When I got to work the paranoia set in. “When was your last tetanus shot?” a co-worker asked.

Good question.


Anonymous Anonymous said...


And how many millions of times have you bumped that cut since? I have a scrape on the back of my middle finger (who knew downhill skis were so dangerous?) and I keep scraping it over and over again. Ugh.

December 5, 2010 at 9:52 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh, and I just have to tell you this. We just had our house appraised and I made sure to kennel the furry beast so he wouldn't be all up in the appraiser's happy place while he was trying to work. When I got the appraisal back, I opened it up to the pictures pages and started laughing. There are two glowing eyes staring out of the picture of the living room. I'm not sure why the appraiser decided that was the best shot, but he did. LMAO!

December 5, 2010 at 9:57 AM  
Blogger BJ Knapp said...

Zion, I have to say that I've hit that cut at least 4359325 times since then. And over Thanksgiving I washed roughly 35043547 dishes, pots and pans, so bandaids weren't very useful.

Oh, and when we first moved to Podunk I totally took crappy pictures of the house, before it got painted and before we hired any landscaping, in anticipation of tax accessors. So I could totally be like "My house is a dump, I don't need to pay all that in tax." LOL.

December 5, 2010 at 4:29 PM  

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