Me: What's wrong?
The Hub: Eh...well, it's just a splinter.
Me: [Unconvinced, perhaps mocking.] Want me to get a tweezer?
The Hub: No. I've got it. [Marches down the hall.]
A few minutes have passed when I hear the Hub's voice echoing down the hall. It seemed like the voice of pain twinged with frustration. But I'm all, really? Over a splinter? I make my way to the bedroom with T9 to investigate further.
Not a full 5 seconds am I in the bathroom when I am, well, ordered out.
The Hub: Please just leave me alone! [Self-control was evident, so I realized this was loose for KINDLY GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.]
Stunned, plotting my revenge, I head back to the living room where I begin a mental list of how much MORE pain I've EVER been in MY WHOLE LIFE and how in each instance--despite the fact that I may not have known him--I NEVER SNAPPED AT HIM. (Okay, maybe upon prodding, I could remember an instance or two...)
But remember, this was a SPLINTER.
I gave birth to babies, mkay? No drugs, kiddos. Just like that. I never even called him an asshole or any of that other annoying YOU DID THIS TO ME bullshit.
So, I mulled about, occupying myself while the clinking and clanking down the hall continued. At one point, the Hub even went into the garage to FETCH A TOOL, then went back to the master bathroom. My scowl never wavered.
Finally, he emerged. With an apology. Then he showed me this:
This? People, he cut his fingernail off to free a 2x4.
This looks much more painful than childbirth. And this is my public apology for all those mind-bullets I fired at him.