The Curse

Until yesterday I believed that my right arm was cursed. Here's why:

• A couple weeks ago as Janelle and I were working on a chair that we were re-upholstering, the wrenching motion I was using with a pair of metal pliers to remove staples tore out a 1/4" diameter sheet of skin off the inside surface of my right hand's ring finger. No biggie. I'm a tough guy. I can take the pain.
• Not this past weekend, but the weekend before I was out shoveling the driveway at my mother's home for about an hour. As I was finishing up, I noticed that I had cut a bit of skin out of my right thumb knuckle. It was cold, my hand was numb, and I didn't even realized what had happened until the blood was mostly dried up. I cleaned it up and tried to put it out of my mind.
• A couple days later I was cleaning up my apartment as I was moving out. In all the hubbub I scratched my right pointer finger between that finger and the right middle finger. Maybe I was just being clumsy.
• After the move I noticed that I had more cuts and scabs on my right hand. There was a small nick on the top of my right ring finger,
• a similar cut on the top of my right pointer finger (a fraction of an inch from the previous cut on the finger),
• An unusual scab on my lower forearm where I can't remember having hurt myself,
  
• and a scab on my thumb that looked like I had walked my hand into something sharp with my ams at my side and not noticed what I had done.
  

Surely this was all simply coincidence, right? Wrong. The curse was already taking control of my life.

• This past Friday Janelle and I went up to Salt Lake City and our first visit was my mom's place. We pulled up in my van and both Janelle and I hopped out. As I closed the door, however, I felt the cold, white metal of a van door close in around one unlucky digit on that right hand. My ring finger once again found itself victim of my curse. My crippled finger painfully popped out as the latch's click confirmed that the door was tightly closed. The incident left tiny drops of blood pooled between my finger pad tissues, and a pressure-sensitive patch of purple under my nail.

I mentioned my adventures to my mother who promptly pulled out Heal Your Body, a book of alternative medicine that pairs almost any malady with a psychological or emotional deficiency along with affirmations that, when recited regularly (daily is preferred), will remedy the deficiency and allow you to ... well, Heal Your Body once and for all. We had a good laugh about the whole thing and I went on with my regular activities.

• Last Saturday we celebrate having 2 years since we started dating (despite it being one day short of a real 2 years). To celebrate we thought it would be fun to hit the sledding hill. After several runs we were getting a little tired and figured we were almost done. Janelle suggested we go off a jump. Not one to chicken out, I found a tiny little lump of snow that passed for a jump and aimed us for it. We gained momentum and the wind started streaking past our faces as we approached that dreadful incline. Obviously we bailed when we landed and what would you guess was hurt? Broken nose? no. Dislocated shoulder? no. Bruised pancreas? don't think so. I cut my right hand pointer finger. Apparently the steering mechanism has a small sharp edge that only affects cursed (pronounced "CURS-ed") fingers.

By now you think that some of this might be fictionalized; perhaps a Freysian biography. I assure you of my ongoing honesty. but unfortunately this curse is hard to break.

• Sunday morning found some in our family late for church so we decided to drive. Trying to be chivalrous I opened and closed the door for Janelle. I've done it a thousand times, but the curse doesn't respect well-honed skills. I slammed my shoulder in the car door. I will repeat for effect: I slammed my shoulder in the car door. My shoulder. I slammed it in the car door. It is now tender and sore.
  

There you have it. Until yesterday this was the basis of my belief in a curse on my right arm. How could I not be cursed? It was clear from recent events that I had disobeyed some divine commandment, some eternal decree.

Yesterday at the library, however, I realized that I didn't appreciate the severity of my curse. I no longer think that this curse is just here to afflict my right arm. I believe it is here to afflict me, body and soul, by increasing degrees until I change my ways. I started reading my affirmation this morning and plan on doing so until my scars have faded and my cuts have healed.

• This latest epiphany came in a flash as I tried to plug my computer into an obviously-damaged electrical socket at my study table. As I attempted to plug in, the normally stable socket plunged upon my finger and the gods took their unwilling sacrifice: a sliver of skin off my LEFT hand!

I have come to believe that the curse is slowly spreading through my entire body, and will consume me if I do not stop it. First my right hand, then my left, then my soul.