We opted for the deli in the bottom of the building. It was a beautiful evening and we wanted to sit outside.
On one of the many trips I took rushing in and out of the patio door for things like multiple bathroom runs, trash dumps, and drink refills, I slammed my ring finger in the door.
The door closed squarely on my fingernail.
I rushed out to the patio and begin half crying/half hyperventilating.
I'm not sure I've ever slammed my finger in a door and if I have, it's been like 25 years.
The pain was gut wrenching. I wanted to barf.
Mr. Yoy ran into the place to get me some ice.
The Yoys did one better. They both ran up to me and kissed my finger.
Big E even asked how many kisses I needed to make my finger feel better.
The enormity of the number startled him, as I don't think he was looking for a long-term commitment.
The point is, both my sweet boys came over to comfort me in my time of need.
Let's all say it together now.
I hope this doesn't affect my career as a hand model.