Come Here Little Fishy-Fishy

Imagine my surprise this morning, when I found that “MARK 🥺” was trending on Twitter. Investigating, it was not immediately apparent what this was all about or even which Mark they were tweeting on. I eventually ascertained that it was some sort of K-Pop thing and didn’t really reference me, as if. I’m sure that if I ever did actually began trending on Twitter that would not be a good thing. I figured out that the emoji is the “pleading face” emoji, but have no idea why that one was being used, but then there is a lot of things on Twitter that I don’t know or understand. I guess, this mystery is part of its allure.

This morning’s Twitter surprise was nothing compared to yesterday morning’s wakeup call. It is never good when Anne gets a text from her sister first thing in the morning that begins, “Don’t worry…” Jane was texting her sisters that Harry had taken the tip off of one of his fingers with his table saw and that she had taken him to the ER. She later added that after check-in she left the hospital to go home for coffee and a shower, which sounded snarky, until we figured out that the hospital probably doesn’t appreciate a bunch of people loitering around the waiting room these days. Digesting this we figured that they had taken Jane’s car and if so, had she made Harry wear a plastic bag around his bloody hand, so that it wouldn’t bleed on her nice new car or simply asked him to hold it out the window? After it became apparent that this accident was not that serious, the other snark sisters came out to play. Jay mentioned in passing that she needed to drink (fluids), because she was giving blood that day. To wit Anne asked, “Bloody Mary’s?” and Jay replied, “No, Bloody Harry’s.” Harry is doing fine, home without much pain and no stitches. Although he was perturbed with the amount of road construction traffic on the way home.

Years ago, in high school, I had a similar accident, except I used an electric table plane instead of a saw to tip my middle finger. I can still remember the look of anguish on my shop teacher’s face, when he realized what I had done. That accident only resulted in a band-aid and his watchful glances for the rest of the semester. Much later though, I was helping the boys build their pinewood derby cars and for some reason, I got distracted and started messing with the furnace. I had propped up the furnace’s galvanized exhaust pipe, which came down on my hand, leaving a deep cut. I called Anne at work and told her to come home, and then I drove myself to the ER. Some Lidocaine and a few stitches later, I was on my way home. I must say that Lidocaine is way more soothing than snark.