Where'd my finger go?

I finally have some time to write, and finally have the physical ability to as well. Let's go back to last Saturday.

I volunteered to work two shifts at the Dairy Bar at the State Fair scooping ice cream that the food science department here on campus produces in the basement of Schaub. I went with two of my friends who are also budding food scientists and fought our way through the throngs of rednecks waiting in line for giant turkey legs, fried macaroni and cheese, and frozen cheesecake on a stick. Everything went as *smoothly* as is possible during fair time. We were surprised that with the cold we still had no down time between scooping orders of cookie dough, cherry vanilla, and butter almond. Then, as the new shift was coming in and we were able to take a little break, I was a little clumsy... I was trying to move some ice cream from the very bottom of a tub so that we could replace it with a fresh one. I lost my grip and sliced my finger on the metal rim of the ice cream bucket. Well, it was no slice... more like I lost a chunk of skin. It wouldn't stop bleeding for a good 15 minutes or so and was making me super woozy. Knowing me, I'm surprised I didn't pass out. Well, we put about three bandages on it, gloved up again, and scooped for another three hour shift. After helping close up, we were finally out at about quarter til midnight.

Woke up the next morning and took a shower. I was too afraid to take the bandaids off, so I waited until I was out of the shower. And it started gushing again. This time I did have to lie down on the couch so I wouldn't faint. I decided that I would get the mother's opinion, and of course with my mom, everything needs to be looked at by professionals. Kelly was kind enough to take me to the emergency room. I felt silly for going for a little cut, but knowing my travel plans, I figured it was better to go get it checked out rather than have it rage with infection and ruin my trip. The doctor was less than thrilled with my "laceration" but told me that since I hadn't come in the night before he wasn't going to give me stitches. I wanted a stitch! He said to just watch it for signs of infection: will do.

I had kept it wrapped up until last night. I took off the bandaid and it felt like there was no feeling all the way around the knuckle that was sliced off. So I decided to let it air out and let the blood level out today, but I still have limited feeling in that finger. I wonder if I hit a nerve or something... Good story for the grand kids I guess.

In other news, the second round of midterms are killing me. I have come down with a killer sinus infection, but luckily have antibiotics now to ease the pain. Every time I sniffled in, my face felt like it was going to explode. Now at least the pain has subsided a little.

In Costa Rican news, Margarita's newest entry made me cry in the middle of the library. I miss that life soooo much, too, it's absurd. The second that one of these silly food industry companies offers me a position, I'm buying that ticket for May and I swear I'm staying there for a good three weeks or so. Oh, Marco Vinicio is a debt collector. That's right. He's the one that calls you up and tells you that you're past due. What a laugh. He also thought that I cut off all of my fingers when I explained what happened and was almost yelling at me for being such a klutz. Tehe.

I finally have some things to look forward to: 6 days until I get a new car (crossing fingers); 29 days until I leave for Ecuador; and about 2 or 3 months until I can finally apply for the Peace Corps. I love countdowns. They give me hope. And I need a lot of that right now.

Peace.