Yesterday I punched my car - and I may just have have cracked the knuckle where my little finger joins the rest of my hand. I didn't mean to punch the car. I've got an estate with a high tailgate and somehow managed to take an extra swing at it when I closed the boot, belting some fairly robust metal with my less-than-robust metacarpals and phalanges. The knuckle's swollen and the bruise is just coming out now and, being a very small bone, and me being a man, it hurts...a lot.
Despite an ice pack through ther evening, I didn't sleep much last night and my typing today is even worse than usual - and I'm a pretty awful typist at the best of times. It's sod's law that I'm really busy at the moment, with half a dozen pieces to complete for a magazine, and three other projects bubbling in the background. But whether bruised or cracked, there's little I can do about my knuckle other than wonder at my own clumsiness.