My hand, my hand, my hand.
So swollen now that I can’t make a fist or close my fingers.
And I’m supposed to drive into town later. To drop off a resume at the co-op, and then go into the mall and try to look charming and cute and finagle a job from my old manager.
With a hand that resembles the Hamburger Helper “Helping Hand” mascot. Little red nose in the middle of my palm and everything. Like a frigging stigmata. And Jesus I am decidedly NOT.