I’ve mentioned in the last few posts about my move to a new office. I didn’t actually “move,” in the end … I expanded, by leasing the space across the hall from my reading room.
On Saturday, I hosted my first meeting in the space — a Tarot Meetup. Sadly, I forgot to take pictures during the meeting, but I remembered to take a couple of shots afterward:
Do you see the black bookshelves in the back of the room? Those are the ones that I wrecked my right hand to put together. (It’s much better now, by the way.)
The chalkboard came from Craigslist. The black stacking chairs did, too. They were a steal.
I put some pictures of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln on top of the bookshelves. A classroom just isn’t a classroom without a couple of presidents.
Here’s a view of the other side of the classroom. My tarot reading room is right across the hall; you can see my sign on the door.
I wrecked my right hand last weekend putting some bookshelves together. At first I thought it was a minor sprain that would heal after a day or two. It didn’t. In fact, I think it got worse every time I used my hand.
And as a writer, mother, homemaker, and all-around bon vivant, I use my hand a lot.
For more than a week, my hand has hurt whenever I’ve used it. It hurts when I hold a drink — even if that drink has certain self-medicating properties. It hurts when I turn a doorknob. It hurts when I pick up a book, or a grocery bag, or a five-year-old who insists that she needs to ride in the race-car shopping cart at Home Depot. (And why am I shopping at Home Depot, for tools and hardware that I can’t use with a bad hand? Because I’m kind of an idiot.)
Argh. Last week I tried a wrist brace, and I decided I liked it best as a way to immobilize my thumb. Last night I decided to switch to an actual thumb splint, since my thumb joint seemed to be the source of all my pain. And today I’m figuring out how long I can put up with a thumb splint before I decide to schedule a doctor’s visit … especially since a doctor would probably just put me in a thumb splint.
You can pity me if you like.
PS: My hand doesn’t look nearly as beautiful in my splint as the model’s hand looks in the photo above. That hurts, too.
