Transplanted Life
Friday, September 12, 2003
I was running late this morning, which was why I was trying to get myself breakfast and watch SportsCenter at the same time. I'm normally pretty much capable of doing that, but Kate and I had been at the Film Festival again (haven't talked to Kurt since Tuesday), so I wasn't home until late, which means I was still groggy this morning. I just want to make that clear, so that this incident doesn't lead to the thought "so, just how stupid was this Hartle guy, anyway?" when I read it later, publish my memoirs, or put it on the net so that the folks who get some weird sort of entertainment from my life.

Because, basically, I lost track of how far I had cut and sliced open my hand.

Cuts don't really hurt that much, so I almost didn't notice until I looked down and saw blood dripping onto the counter, soaking into the bagel, and just generally starting to make a mess. Fortunately, the cut wasn't deep, and I had the presence of mind to wash it out before grabbing the first aid kit (good thing I picked one up a couple weeks ago), spraying some disinfectant on it, and wrapping a bandage around my palm. Pretty straightforward stuff, although I didn't appreciate having to change my shoes and nylons, along with having to get the mop out of the closet to clean up the mess; I wound up getting to work a little late because of it.

Ordinarily, that'd be no big deal - happens all the time, and my cut was a little less than an inch long. It's just that it might be large enough to leave a scar, and as that phone call Kurt got from my mother recently reminded me, this isn't really my hand. It's someone else's that I'm using while they've got mine. I wonder if I'm going to get in trouble for this. Will Michelle do something to my body to get back at me, or keep me like this longer as a penalty, or even decide her original body is damaged goods and make the arrangement permanent (well, on my part, anyway. I suppose she could switch out with anyone she wanted)? Have I decided the future course of my life by not paying close enough attention toasting a bagel?

I hope not. As absurd as my life has been the past couple of months, it hasn't quite been that ridiculous.

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Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at