Wednesday, 24 February 2016

12 Bar Bruise

I got my tax back last week.

I wasn't aware of this until Monday, but at some point last week, the tax man gave me a rebate on everything I paid (or didn't), which is a relief, because without it, I'd be in a bad state financially. In fact, with this money, I can buy important things, like books. If there's any left, I'll buy food.

As a result, I was feeling quite chipper on Tuesday morning, and decided to treat myself to coffee from Costa on the way to work. I took the bus one further stop than usual, went to Costa, attempted witty banter with the barista (and failed - she assumed I was trying to order a skinny latte), and even managed a brave smile as I started my journey across Tesco's car park (which I need to cross) towards Quasar (yes, Quasar), which is the shortcut back to where I work.

The next thing I knew, I was hurtling towards the ground at great speed, and smashed onto the floor with an immense amount of velocity. My bag flew a metre or so away, my chest and arms took most of the brunt of the impact, and my coffee burst open and flooded all over my right hand.

I had fallen. I had tripped over something and fallen onto my front.

By the time bystanders had picked me up (for which I thanked them), the office was open and I was losing time. Assuming the damage wasn't that great, I gathered up my things, headed towards work...

...at which point I noticed that the pain wasn't temporary.

I was bleeding. 

There was a large open wound on my right arm about the size of two 2p coins, and one on my thumb (about the size of two ants... but still, my thumb, it hurts!). Both hands were grazed (and the right on was swollen from the coffee), my right knee was bruised, and the nail on my right big toe had bent backwards, with a scab forming of displaced blood. More worryingly, I was finding myself short of breath and unable to walk long distances, and was swearing under my breath every few steps as another shock of pain coursed through my body (mostly from the open wounds on my thumb and arm, although less so from my arm once the first-aider had put a huge bandage on it). With nothing else to do, however, too healthy to go to hospital and too present to just go home... I went and sat down in my room and worked the full day.

I got home at about 4pm, having asked my dad to come and get me (which he did) and raided his bathroom cupboard for replacement dressings (I found a few). With girlfriend absent, fan heater on and bed freshly re-made, it would have been very easy to drift off into slumber and wait for my wounds to re-knit...

...except there was one rubbing against the sheets whichever way I turned. Every angle was painful; I wasn't going to get to sleep on either side, and lying on my back was boring too.

Hey! Why don't I masturbate? my brain trilled. That'll at least alleviate some of the stress!
Good idea, said my penis! Let's get together! Okay, hand, come on, do your stuff!
Righty-ho, replied my hand, let's just bend this right arm and...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

It's a safe bet that I could really use some stress relief right now.

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