Art Is Pain

I have to tell this story; because this is just so quintessentially ME that I can't not share.  And it fits so nicely with April Fool's Month.

As I've mentioned eleventy times, Lucy and I take walkies almost every single day.  If my workload is light, (who am I kidding? it's always light) then we can venture out further than the regular trails we take.

I had a meeting this afternoon so we went out to the Bay this morning because I needed water and ocean air. When I'm at the beach, I am always hunting for rocks or driftwood or shells.  Lately, I've also been adding to the art that is found on this particular beach.  

There is the ongoing driftwood sculpture that changes with each tide or storm:

There has also been little rock sculptures here and at another state park we've gone to:

Photo nipped from the interwebs

So, today while Lucy was hunting, I stopped and sat on a log to try to make these little towers.  I was a little successful but because I'm not very dextrous, or patient, and I have an impatient Lucy tugging on me, I have to keep my sculptures small.

And now I'm bleeding.  When I went to reach a rock, I scraped my thumb on either the log or something in the sand.  To no one's surprise, I am not prepared for this.  I am about a half-mile from the truck and the only water I have is ocean water.  So much nope.  Instead, I let it bleed a little to hopefully "rinse" it and then let it clot but as soon as I moved, it just started bleeding again.

I finished my towers because of who I am as a person, letting the blood drip on the sand.  I scuffed it away with my sneaker and saw that I had dripped blood on a rock.  So that rock came home with me as to avoid a CSI episode on the beach.  (or make wildlife ill, if that's a thing) 

Only I, alphabet-brained me, can sustain an injury building with smooth, small rocks. 

Then I put my hand in my hoodie - knowing I would have to wash it immediately but the other option is to leave a blood trail and that's disturbing - and we returned to the truck.   There isn't easily accessible running water (and no soap) at the park so my option was dog water (a water bottle for Lucy) and hand sanitizer.  I rinsed my hand with the dog water then dumped sanitizer on the cut, fully expecting to curse loudly.  Nothing at first so obviously I have to replace that sanitizer and then a little bit of sting happened.  I wrapped it in a to-go napkin from the glovebox and headed home.  We arrived with fifteen minutes to spare to clean and bandage my thumb before the meeting. No pressure at all.

It appears that I somehow sliced the skin between my thumbnail and cuticle. There's no sliver so I really don't know how it was cut.  I washed it a lot, dumped peroxide on it because that would hurt less than alcohol, put on antibiotic salve then bandaged it.  A bit of overkill probably but losing my thumb to a beach injury would fit in nicely with the month/decade.

Now the meeting is over and I'm going to have a consolation crunchy-topped cupcake.

But look, it could be said it was worth it.  Art is Pain, they say.

And I just switched the laundry and OF COURSE there is shredded to-go napkin all over the wet clothes.