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.