The Mind of Man Plans His Way...

I don’t think God wanted me doing dishes today.

Planning to take yet another day easy, I kept snuggled in my bed and immersed myself in a book after everyone had taken off for the day. While I’ve been sick I pass the day playing/working on the computer, but I needed a break. When I finished about noon, I decided to get myself something to eat. I then realized that the huge pile of dishes in the sink was not going to do itself. It didn’t look like anybody else was going to do them either. And I thought maybe I’d like to try to fix dinner later as well.

Before taking on the dishes, I reheated a small bit of leftover pizza from the dinner my very dear sister-in-law had sent up last night. When I thought it might be done, I pulled it out of the oven with my bare hands. The pizza was very hot and I deposited it as quickly as possible onto a plate that I at least hoped was sanitary, if not clean. I know that doesn’t sound like it makes sense. Realistically, I was probably kidding myself.

I ate the pizza. I ran hot soapy water into a vintage pan with a red rim. I started washing dishes and the hot water gave me a realization: I had burnt my middle finger. Oh, ow. I’ll live. I looked at it a few times - as if that was going to change anything - and kept washing dishes. I did debate asking the only person home, my little brother, if he could wash the dishes for me, but hey, I’m tough. No really, I am. I think.

Merrily (or not) I continued on with my task when my clumsiness decided to kick in and I dropped a plate into the sink, breaking it into multiple pieces. Oops you say? Well, yes, and looking at my hand, on the same middle finger I had burnt, next to a scar where years ago I nicely sliced off a bit of skin also doing dishes, was a rather deep cut that was starting to bleed. How exactly this happened, I can't say, I just know that before the plate fell into the sink; no cut. After the plate broke in the sink; cut.


Well, I don’t think I’ll be finishing the dishes.

I grabbed tissue to stop the bleeding. I realized that I was going to have to doctor it myself - probably. Have I mentioned I don’t have a strong stomach? I did ask my little brother to run down to my sister-in-law and ask if she had any experience super gluing cuts. I found a cup and made myself a cup of tea. The message from Little Brother translated into, “did they have any super glue?” Which they did not, but she sent up some bandaging they did have.

I already have a noticeable scar on that knuckle, and beauty was of utmost importance and I had set my heart on super gluing the wound shut. Minimal scarying? It seemed like a good idea. We have the glue, so I decided to use the computer to see how to do this myself. I think I made it about half way through the YouTube video I found when I was to queasy to ignore it anymore and had to open the door and take deep breaths of the cold, snowy outside.

The cold air righted my insides and I set myself to the next task of cleaning the wound with hydrogen peroxide. Fortunately, it didn’t hurt. I didn’t even investigate the idea of using pepper as an anti-coagulant, I’m not that tough. Besides, surprising as it may be, we don’t have any pepper in the house. Needing something other than tissue to cleanse the wound, I had to get creative. Remember our living situation? Well, some supplies are scant. I finally settled on a burgundy pillowcase (hides any blood stains) and wet one corner with warm water. I gently cleaned up the wound. I think I then got some more fresh air. It would turn out that the best way to achieve this operation was to pause and inhale cold air until my insides felt right again. I had to do it every few minutes. Did I mention I don’t have a very strong stomach? I thought this was all ridiculously weak of me, but it was a way to get the job done. Once the wound was prepared, I enlisted the services of my little brother to put the glue on while I held the wound shut. He graciously assisted. I’ve heard of doing this, but neither of us knew what we were doing.

I doubted my sanity, the wound looked ghastly with the dried glue. Not too long ago, I actually took it all off (no worries, it just came right off) and dabbed it on less generously. It does look better, but boy is my hand sore. Which I think is the fact that I’ve been holding my hand funny for hours, but it could be the wound. Remember, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Oh, well, a little pain… I’m tough. I’m tough, I’m tough, I’m tough…….

I can also do poetry:

Thank God for dirty dishes,
For they have a tale tell,
If I didn’t cut my hand,
I’d be doing swell.
-T.W.

It turns out that a little pain in my hand is tolerable, but not having anything to eat but the 2”x3” piece of pizza (that I decided to save?) and tea isn’t enough for a grown girl. It's killing me! Okay, I aggagerate. A little. Starvation can kill a person. It’s tea time anyway, and I’m sure I can find a little smackarel of something. The whole problem is I got sucked into the computer. Now there is a scary reality for you.

First though, doing dishes was a good thing, a noble thing, but apparently it wasn’t what God wanted me doing today. I think for me it was a lesson that I need to apply and search the application to in the bigger picture of my life. Are there things that are good, but God doesn’t want me doing them? It’s something to think about.

Well, I’m sorry that there will still be dirty dishes when everyone gets home this evening. (Unless I can talk little brother into doing them?)

I don’t like wounds and I apologize for boring you with this, but I needed to share. It will make the whole experience seem worthwhile by blogging about it.

Thank you.

T.W.