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Hand Abuse

As you can tell from my past experiences, I am not the type of guy to get down and dirty to do manual labor, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t do it. In order to finish my work space, I had to paint, run wires, and lay tile. Of course, this meant long hours on my hands and knees to get the job done. When the room was finished, my hands were red and had calluses. To top it off, hours after finishing the room, I had to play drums on a drum kit that looked like it got into a fight with a steam roller and lost badly. The outcome: a bloody hand that bled all over my pants. Good thing I wore black pants instead of the bright orange ones that make people envious of my orangeness.

Due to the weekend of pain and torture to my hands, they now look like the hands of an aged construction worker who fought in ‘nam. Simply put, my hands look like feet—-cold, ashy, hardened, bloody feet with yellow corns on every toe.

I’m going to do myself and my fands (feet-hands) a favor and stop typing now. They deserve a rest.

P.S: I’m a pretty dark guy, so red hands are not common for me.

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