In the Final Stretch… At What Cost?
Howdy, hi, and welcome back in, my goblins, ghouls, and assorted little monsters. 💖
I have been racking my brain trying to figure out what kind of update to give you guys because lately my life has mostly consisted of:
Packing.
Trying to make new online friends.
More packing.
And the occasional game of Pokémon UNITE or Fortnite sprinkled in to convince myself I still possess hobbies outside of putting my belongings into cardboard rectangles.
We are officially in the final stretch before the move, friends.
Which apparently meant the universe looked down upon me and said,
"Hm. She's not stressed enough."
And thus began today's incident.
I was cleaning out the garage—which was already a questionable decision because Arizona heat and I are mortal enemies—when I decided to be a responsible adult and use a box cutter to break down some cardboard instead of tearing it apart with my bare hands like the feral little creature I was clearly meant to be.
It was even a cute box cutter.
One of those tiny pastel cloud-shaped ones.
Adorable.
Innocent.
Surely incapable of violence.
I'll insert a picture below so you can look directly into the face of betrayal.
Apparently, however, the pastels chose violence today.
One unfortunate slip later, and your favorite gremlin was off to the hospital with a thumb that had abruptly decided it would prefer to have an opening where no opening was previously intended.
As of writing this, I am now the proud owner of:
four stitches in my thumb,
one very unhappy left hand,
and a fresh tetanus shot administered with what I remain convinced was a veterinary-grade needle.
I will spare you photographs of the stitches themselves because I love you and would like you to continue visiting this website.
Friend. 😭
I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE RESPONSIBLE.
This is precisely why I retreat into goblin mode every available opportunity. Civilization has failed me. Return me to my cave. Give me snacks and safety scissors.
Unfortunately, we still have roughly a week left before the move and quite a bit left to do, so losing most of the usefulness of my left hand—even temporarily—is definitely not what I would've selected from the Moving Adventure Bonus Event menu.
But!
The boxes still need packing.
My birthday is still coming.
Colorado is still waiting for us.
And unless Uncle Sam performs one final act of military-grade tomfoolery, we are still getting on the road.
So for now, I'm changing tactics.
No heroic garage endeavors. No attempting to prove myself against cardboard. No tiny blades disguised as kawaii stationery.
I'll stick to lower-strain tasks for a bit: sorting laundry, figuring out what still needs to be donated, organizing some of the smaller things, and generally supervising while trying very hard not to injure any additional extremities.
Tonight's dinner is also pizza because there was absolutely no universe in which I was coming home with four stitches and then cheerfully announcing,
"You know what sounds fun? Cooking."
Absolutely not.
The kitchen goblin is off duty.
So that's today's update from the Goblin Cave.
We are tired. We are slightly wounded. We are surrounded by cardboard and plastic tubs.
But we are getting there.
And I suppose that's what the final stretch looks like sometimes: not particularly graceful, definitely not Pinterest-worthy, but moving forward anyway.
Bye-bye for now, friendlies. 💖
Stay safe, don't die, and—for all things holy—please respect your box cutters.
Xoxo 💖💖💖
—Babsie
The pastel betrayal in 4k
