Walking to the ICA this morning, I noticed that the road scrapers had been busy. Following the mess left by the digger that has mauled the road over the last few months, it is now, almost time for the repairing to start. To resurface the road, it must be scraped first. It made pretty patterns in the morning sun.
While the photo shows the road looking uniform, there were also a few deep pits for cars to avoid. Not that they all avoided them. There were a few surprised grunts and scrapes as cars sped through the big, gaping depressions. Some slowed immediately, avoiding damage while others just maintained their high speed obviously believing that they could avoid any harm by going faster.
I’ve noticed that some drivers believe this. They are probably the same people who think, going faster, makes their car thinner. On narrow roads, this tactic seems particularly popular.
Not that the road bothered me overly much. The footpath is nowhere near as delightful but, being a regular pedestrian, I’m used to it.
Back at home, I had some more mapping additions to make for Mirinda’s assignment. Later in the day, I also had to pretty up her PowerPoint slides for a presentation she has to make at uni tomorrow. I did this while she was jumping around the harbour at the first outdoor gympa for the year.
It was the end of a day spent largely at the computer. This was not by design but, rather, brought about by injury in a second instance of scraping for the day.
Earlier, I had been intent on finishing off the second raised bed but, through a combination of stupidity and clumsiness, I decided it was better to sheer off the top of the knuckle on my right hand. There was a lot of blood as the underneath of my worktable, scraped the skin off, producing no pretty patterns.
Normally, when I do this sort of stupid thing, I just clean up, bandage myself and carry on. Not today though. I am right-handed and it’s very difficult wrapping a band-aid around my right thumb with just my left hand. Any dexterity I may have had was gone.
The upshot of this was a desperate call to my wife for help. Unlike her sister, she is not a nurse. Still, eventually, after I’d doused the wound in water and dried it off, she managed to staunch the flow of blood with a tightly wrapped dressing which quickly filled with blood.
By the end of the day, the Caucasian skin coloured band-aid did not match my skin at all. Still, at least it stopped me from bleeding out.
Of course, it meant an end to building anything. For one thing, I couldn’t hold the saw properly. Instead, we hung some pictures and then, as I said above, I worked on the computer.
One big job I managed to complete was redesigning my podcast page for the listeners of the Talking Newspaper. I asked Charles if he thought it was a good idea to direct listeners to it the next time I record a Letter from Sweden.
Hopefully, it is now easier to use for the hard of seeing.
