In other words, I poked my thumb this morning while stabbing the potato I was about to nuke for breakfast. Oh: a fork can hurt.
In other news, I thought those two packages of photos I sent two-and-a-half weeks ago had gone missing, and Wednesday I even filled out Missing Parcel Reports with the Post Office, but they both arrived where they were supposed to arrive. My friend Michol and her husband Doug didn’t get theirs until he finally picked up a full plastic tub of many other parcels waiting for them at their post office. So the postal service works! (I remember getting a letter 20 years ago from a friend in Virginia Beach, after I’d moved to Northern Virginia. Every line of the address had at least one mistake – misspelled street name, slightly wrong street number, totally wrong zip code -- and it still reached me.)
