The most dangerous job
Looking at my hands, palms down, from left to right…
Two healing scars on my left thumb. One from trying to open a paint can with a screwdriver, the other from a vicious cardboard cut while taping a box.
One recovering scab on my right thumb, from a door frame that had seemingly popped out of the woodwork.
One cut on the pad of my right pointer finger, picked up from the edge of a plastic pasta salad container. This one hurt the worst.
A series of rough patches of skin on the top of my right ring finger. Dry weather, constant scrapes and a lack of upkeep over the past two weeks are the culprits.
A gash on my right pinkie, thanks to getting in between the fence and our dog, who was getting a little too uptight while meeting the neighbor dogs.
Add to this the aches, bruises, scrapes and pains that accompanied the move, and I can’t imagine anything more dangerous than being a professional mover.