Last night I was climbing into Ed's truck in the garage when a shooting hot pain grabbed the back of my leg. I'd managed to lean back onto the tailpipe of his motorcycle - the motorcycle he'd just ridden home from work five minutes before. I danced around yelling most of last night, grabbing anything cool and smooshing it to the back of my leg. I'm sure I was very popular with the waiters who had to clean up the pool of melted ice cubes under my dinner chair, and Ed's friend who found partially defrosted green beans in his sink.This morning I read up on burns, and apparently the best thing I can do is leave the blister in place for as long as possible, since my body has created a sterile environment behind the blister for my skin to heal. Which makes sense, but it's so, so gross. I just want to pop it. It'll be such a gratifying ooze, I know it.
As I pointed out to Ed, this is all his fault. Ed feels about leg stubble the way most people feel about boogers; it grosses him out, so I make the wifely sacrifice of shaving every week or two. I know, I know, he doesn't deserve me. Yesterday was a shaving day only because he whined that braiding leg hair is grounds for divorce. Without him I would have had a nice coat of leg fur to insulate me from rogue tailpipes.
And because it's his fault I got burned, I get complaining privileges. I'm taking full advantage.
well, look at it this way: tailpipe burns are very recognizable. when my sister got one in college, my mom recognized it in a second (and wasn't happy). so now you just look tough :).
ReplyDeleteLike shepdc, my mom found out my sister rode on motorcycles when she came home from college with a VERY similar burn on her leg.
ReplyDeleteYou know, the college in San Antonio.
Must be in the water.