I am.
The frustration is terrific. As is the pain. It says on the notes the hospital gave me to do stuff but not too much. So how much is too much? Yesterday I embarked on a bit of marathon leaflet production to fill up the six foot table I can’t fill at Miniatura. With two hands and a computer producing a few hundred leaflets should be easy. The bit that got to me was trimming the edges with a paper trimmer. A fortunes awaits he who invents the first real one handed paper trimmer. I had to slide the blade, shielded as it is for reasons of safety and precision, with my good hand. Also the blade is not new and only cuts well in one direction. So, somehow, I had to anchor the trimmer to the table while I slid the doings along and hold the paper with the third hand I also didn’t have, too, as well, plus counting it out no more than five sheets at a go, or it just judders and you might as well cut it with a rusty chainsaw for the finish you get.
So I held it with ma nose
And I held it with ma knee
And I tried to hold it with ma foot
While sitting on a seat
And I held it with my elbow
(Which only made it worse)
And ma foot again, which cut ma sock
And really made me curse.
So I held it with the stapler
Which fell upon the floor
And then I moved the table so
I could jam it in the door
And I moved the table back again
Because that wouldn’t do
And I tried the holey puncher
And then I tried with glue.
So I thought the glue might work
And I tried the variants,
I tried sticky tape, tacky glue, PVA, glue stick and little price labels and the big sticky label off my new pants
And that didn’t work either.
So I held it with ma right breast
And I pressed it with my left
And I perched my bum upon it
And books that I could heft
And I put it on the carpet
And I tried it with my heel
And in the end I used my hand
To see what I could feel.
And it hurt like billyo so I did about 500 really quickly and ran up the road to post them and by bedtime my arm was huge and red and so swollen I thought I might have to cut the plaster off.
So if you pick up one of the leaflets at the show, treasure it because it’s got blood all over it (metaphorically speaking).
Thanks to Ayelet, Gerry, Jeanette and everyone who has sent kind messages, they’re keeping me going!
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JaneLaverick.com – armed and rubbish