"In my dream, I'm in public and not wearing pants..."
Well, it's not that bad a situation I find myself in...
but if the next time you see me...
...and I'm not wearing any pants...
...but AM wearing a nice white long sleeve shirt and tie...
It'll mean I didn't get this problem resolved yet.
I hope, when you see me it's not in public, or where considered rude, weird, or indecent.
I promise... I can explain.
And...
Please... don't be shy, ask ...if something seems amiss.
I'd be grateful for the warning.
I am in a bit of a jam.
One I don't fully understand yet.
It's not Alzheimer's.
It's a skin condition on my hands.
I am sitting here at my laptop typing this stupid thing out.
A couple of my fingers can still work, just not for what I need them to do...
...which is....
Unbuttoning the top button on my white shirt (which is a bit tight)
...and the two little ones which give "a button-down collar" it's name is a real challenge.
This is my evening...
These tiny buttons are always a bit tough.
My dexterity is really hampered... today.
Well... everyday.
But, more so today.
There are small cuts and cracks on my fingers that are extremely tender.
I think it was caused by a chemical cleaning agent I used to shampoo some auto upholstery.
If I were a housewife, I'd blame it on doing too many dishes.
I'm not a housewife... and use paper plates like all self respecting divorced guys.
I'm surprised though, that I got the buttons fastened this morning.
Very little trouble.
This evening I sit here at a computer, shirt and tie on, ...no pants...
...well, correction...
I'm wearing "jogging pants" or "warm ups"... an activity which the said garments have yet to experience.
Like a poodle awaiting it's first bear hunt. Not ever gonna happen.
I don't jog. I don't warm up.
I'm a bit worried that there's little chance this shirt and tie will come off until my fingers heal.
Sure, I could grab a steak knife, look in the mirror,
and start sawing at buttons.
But since I'm still wearing the shirt...
sawing near my neck with a sharp edge,
keeping in mind ...the need to reverse-translate the exact opposite...
...or is it backwards view in the mirror?
...from what my eyes see?
This might prove deadly. Or, at least ruin my best white shirt.
I could slip and there'd be a nasty stain to remove.
I forget... does tomato juice get bloodstains out or is that just for skunk smells?
I'll Google it later, but well before I get woozy from blood loss.
A steak knive at my throat?
I am pretty darn good with tools.
Unless you start counting my fingers.
Or start counting the scars on the remaining fingers.
It just so happens I have fewer fingers than most people.
It's not a genetic thing... because when my daughters were born, I counted.
My beautiful daughters all have ten fingers. (but I just now thought that maybe it skips a generation. If so, I apologize to all my future grandkids.)
My right hand is visual evidence that in 1981 there was a brief moment when I lost my focus...
...and three fingers. One of which was re-attached.
That finger, I nearly broke off on a gate latch before the stitches were even out.
It's still crooked.
The hand is quite entertaining to young children.
My carelessness is their delight.
I make up stories about how and why it happened.
****** obedience to adults.
We won't go into the locations on my body...
where I've shot nails out of nailguns,
driven screws with screwguns,
Blackened countless fingernails,
ruined perfectly good pairs of pants with skilsaws.
Twice.
Got stitched up from a chisel stuck in my thigh.
Broke my thumb with a 3 pound sledgehammer.
You know... the run of the mill stuff.
More stitched lacerations than I can count on one and a half hands full of fingers.
This is not some sicko fetish or hobby.
It is a tradesman who loves his work but isn't very careful with tools.
You know, now that you mention it, that does sound a bit sicko...
Maybe I can try Krisco shortening or softened butter to slide out of the shirt collar. I'd apply it liberally with something dull or a rubber spatula.
Or, maybe just wait it out.
If I lost some weight I could probably have less tension on the buttons.
But by that time, my fingers could heal and ...problem solved.
This could take days.
I'd be the best dressed carpenter in the shop complex.
But soon I'd also be the most fragrant.
Doing laundry while still wearing it has never caught on much, although Tarzan became quite well known for such things.
I feel like a chimp with it's hand stuck in a jar of goodies.
Greedily hanging onto the food inside,
Unwilling to give up the treat.
Unwilling to let go in order to free itself.
I'm sure you can see my dilemma. I'll let you know when I've solved this problem.
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