And, this afternoon, at home, I cut my finger really badly. Really. It was awful. We don't have any band-aids in the house, and I rummaged through the cabinets to see in Landlord Steef had left some but to no avail. Then I stood there, bleeding finger, thinking, "All the stores where they might sell band-aids are closed. Why do stores in Holland close at 6:00 pm? How does any one get any thing done? You can't just stand here until the stores open tomorrow." Then it dawned on me: you have neighbors!
So I got some shoes on and ran outside, the neighbors quickly understood that I needed a 'plaster' for a cut. The friendly lady went inside and brought out a band-aid and put it on my finger. The whole time she said, "No looking, no looking..." and I was replying, "Not looking, not looking..." and keeping my eyes closed. She gave me an extra band-aid and then looked at me and said, "You are looking very white, like all the blood is gone!" And she was right - wobbly knees and pale sweaty-faced, I thanked her and went back inside to lay down, before I fell down.
This has cast a huge pall on the rest of the summer: it better heal lightening-fast. I know it sounds dramatic and ludicrous, but I'm working on a paper photograph worth more than a million dollars, and you can't bleed on that!
This, coupled with the cold, has got me in a little funk. Bummer.