Work Place Accidents

The clock. Some of you may remember that I have recently blogged on the woes of changing from Standard Time to Daylight Savings Time and therefore having to "change the clocks." Well, the clocks apparently took offense and decided to gather and construct a silent coup to take me down.

It all happened last Friday, after spending every day of the week in an office where I (and others) work as a temp flipping through pages of marketing reports looking for what amounts to computer and printing errors (and, in my case, discovering what's available in the wonderful world of podcasts to occupy my ears while my hands work). After a tedious week, and this the final Friday of the month, we were rewarded with cake which they tried to tell us was actually in honor of the month's birthdays for those people who actually work at the company and are kept separate from us, the temps. I am not a fan of cake but, like I said, this being Friday and boredom having set in on Monday, I was willing to try any insulin-injection I could. And I did. The result of which was not pretty.

With 15 minutes left in the day and therefore the week, 15 minutes left until a weekend of relaxation and freedom, 15 minutes!!!, the clocks saw their opportunity for revenge. And they took it. Working alongside the clocks, my coworkers begged me to do something to make the time go faster. Now you, being of sound mind and less cake than I was at the moment I had to react, may consider some form of entertainment as a way to make the time pass by quickly-- a little song or, say, a jig. I, instead, decided to go up to the 16"-diametered clock that reigns over our little, separate, temp office space, and pretend to hang on the minute hand.....a concept I'm not sure was transferred clearly to my audience. So I did and as I pulled away, my pinky on my right hand began to throb slightly. I thought nothing of it other than that I had accidentally made contact with the clock. But nooooooo. The clock had made contact with me! Somehow, somewhere, the clock held a tiny, but very sharp, dagger!! And it took its chance while I was near to it and sliced my finger (though, my theory is that it was going for my entire hand to disable me from writing any future anti-clock-changing blogs).

After playing it that nothing had happened, I finally glanced down at my finger and saw a strong streak of liquid red. I'm bleeeeeeding! It got me. <<>> It got me.

You're probably thinking it did not get me that well but the wound this the Tuesday after still bleeds often enough to necessitate bandage.

I'm going to call my surgeon. And I'm going to purchase a hammer. Many hammers. And share them with you. So that together we can pound on all the clocks, for they are out to get us. DEFEND YOURSELVES!!!

***This is not an April Fools Day joke.***