My Ideal Reader

by pjmcbride

Sure, it sounds cheesy, but it’s today’s Blog School assignment. “Picture the person you’re writing for, and address a blog post specifically to them. Include some type of embedded content you’re not familiar with.” Well, that would be all embedded content, wouldn’t it? And now I feel Awkward & Self-Conscious addressing a hypothetical person I made up myself. THANKS, WordPress! Anyway (ignoring Nick, who is holding back tears and saying, “I thought was who you were writing for!”), the accompanying video, should it display correctly, shows the sort of person I’m writing for. The sort, in other words, who could find humor in….


Most of my time in therapy is spent with the therapist stretching my fingers, which sounds gentle and soothing, but actually means making small talk while she hurts my hand. I can provide a surprising amount of talk under these circumstances. Today, however, she came up with a new twist, so to speak–curling my hand up as much as possible (which is only about halfway at this point), and then wrapping it tightly into that position with some type of insufficiently-stretchy mummy tape. “The longest I’ll leave it like this is five minutes,” she said. Rather than the usual stream of distracting conversation, the only thing I really wanted to hear at this point was how many minutes I had left.


“Does it feel OK?”

“Well, it’s starting to throb.”

“It’ll do that, I have it kind of tight. Let’s see, we started at 1:06, it’s been a minute. You doing OK?”

“I’m starting to think about Chinese foot-binding at this point.”

“OK, almost 2 minutes!”


Not only am I paying for this, but I signed on to do it for another month.

And my reward is–I got to shower WITHOUT MY HAND IN A PLASTIC BAG tonight! I haven’t had such good morale since I got to remove the nail polish which had been chipped in The Incident. There is a great deal of dead skin grossly flaking off the affected hand. Hopefully this will resolve itself before I return to work.

Where THEY NEED ME, because, in my absence, Tragically-Hip Nikki decided she would rather work for the SEWER DEPARTMENT, and KatClaire departed to go work for St Louis County. I worked at the Recorder of Deeds office there (the beginning of my lifetime in government service!) from 1978-1980. I left in a dispute over the dress code, which was a recurring theme in those days. You can neither dress me up nor take me anywhere.

Well, Alien Finger has had enough of a workout typing. Time to go stretch my fingers. Yes, I do that at home, too. It’s a high-maintenance finger.