On polishing ones fingers

It’s not recommended.

In fact, I would say you shouldn’t do it.

It’s the sort of thing that can mess up your plans.

Except, thinking about it, my plans mostly aren’t up to scratch, so they might as well be messed up or completely got rid of. Sometimes doing things you shouldn’t do seems to work out pretty damn fine.

I wanted to go to see a nice man about a dog glassblowing. About making my Meisterstück to be precise.

It was semi-sorted out and I was going to practise making lots of Things so that I’d be good at it before I got there so that he wouldn’t despair of me or kick me out after the first join.

I also had a huge sleep debt and a bad-tempered colleague. And the Summer had decided to arrive in full force. 35 degrees (C) is nothing.

I had a whole lot of other Glass Things due to be collected very soon, and work Things probably come before private Things, at least in the eyes of the boss.

I was even going to miss the football match* so I could attempt to catch up with myself.

There I stood, in my workshop, polishing important Glass Things by myself, minding my own business and not watching the football. I even put a brand new polishing wheel on the machine.

Suddenly I was no longer polishing important Glass Things, I was polishing my finger.

I’m a glassblower.

My fingers are pretty darn important.

In the grand scheme of things they’re a whole lot more important than the important Glass Things.

I stopped polishing my finger, turned the machine off and washed the polishing muck off so I could see the damage.

I’m not good at blood. I go all queasy and have to lie down (sometimes more quickly than intended). However. I’m also good at self-preservation. This gives me about three and a half minutes (total) between injuring myself and falling over, in which I am still able to function properly.

As I said, I washed my finger, held it up to my face, washed it again because the blood was in the way, bent down to look at it under the tap, got a plaster out of the medicine cabinet, decided a plaster wasn’t going to cut it (or cover it even :P), got out a bandage with a cool joined in gauze patch and a paper towel, washed my finger again, dried it, wrapped it up… and sat down – so as not to fall over.

When I was sure I could stand up without damaging the floor, I turned off the lights, locked up the workshop and went to watch the football.

… to be continued….

* No. I still don’t like football. I just think you should support people you know if they’re crazy enough to play.

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