Middle Fingers Get No Respect

I have a killer paper cut on my middle finger.  Yes, that finger.  I lathered it in neosporin and applied a NASCAR bandaid.  While attempting to wash my face using only one hand, lest that bandaged finger get wet, I had a digital epiphany of sorts.  Middle fingers are very important and don’t get nearly enough respect.  Yes, we take our middle fingers for granted.

Let me illustrate further.  During the above-mentioned facial washing escapade, I heard EmmaLou, the Golden Destroyer yakking up the remains of a housplant she had ingested prior to coming upstairs to her crate.  Quickly grabbing a wet washcloth (never to be used again on my face or any other part of me) I ran to her crate to clean up the yak.  It’s difficult to sop up yak while holding one hand in the air to keep the middle finger with the aforementioned bandaid from getting yak germs.  Yak mopping is a two-handed job.  I needed my middle finger to get the job done properly. 

Following that experience, I required some refreshment.  Down to the kitchen I went in search of a glass of juice.  Both my favorite Ohio State University plastic glasses were dirty.  Must wash out glass by hand.  Can only use one hand.  Oops, wrong hand; wet bandaid.  Back upstairs…more neosporin…out of NASCAR bandaids.  Crap.  Find old box of plain bandaids; open one-handed.  I’m getting good at this.  Return downstairs; repeat exercise for juice.  Wait… I no longer want juice.  Into the refrigerator for Diet Coke.  Go to open can; wait – I need my middle finger to grab the pull top off the can.  Crap.  Settle for tap water.

So here’s to you middle finger.  You’re not just for waving anymore.


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