I think I mentioned this before...

I am not handy. I am not good with my hands, good with tools, or good around the house (unless you count cooking). I am the kind of useless sort that would rather hire a guy than take the chance at embarrassment.

But I still have to do some things just to keep my man card. So last weekend I broke down and finally replaced the faulty breaker in the basement (mostly because the short had stolen the sweet, sweet internets). Electricity makes me nervous, and so it took a fair bit of encouragement form Michele. But I did it.... and I lived. Yea me.

Perhaps it was this tiny, simple, expectable victory that lead to my demise. Yesterday I went to help Bob on the latest phase of his ridiculously large garage. We were framing walls... which is to say that I carried things where people pointed and held things in place. Most of the day went without incident and I was feeling good (dun dun dun). Toward the end of my servitude my thumb ended up in the wrong place, at the wrong time, on the wrong end of a pneumatic nailer (do not click this link!). According to the doctor it would have been much better if it went through my thumb (!!!). Instead, it entered near the tip and went in to about the knuckle. C'est la vie.

Now, not only do I know for sure that I'm not handy, but I'm down a hand for turkey prep. Two thumbs up from Ann Arbor... just don't look too close at the left one.