I'm swearing off Chicken Parmigiana forever. More about that later...
So tonight, I'm sitting here with my thumb all wrapped up. I had it in ice earlier, and will again before I sleep. It's a mess, my hand is swollen and it sort of hurts a lot.
So how did this grave hand injury occur? A shining football moment? An errant punch in the boxing ring? A horrific cycling accident maybe?
How about "none of the above"?
I did it scrubbing out a pot. Or more precisesly trying to scrub out a baking pan. I decided to add double the amount of elbow grease, and when I gave it my best, I don't know exactly how it happened, but WHAM. Slammed the thumb into the sink, heard a major crack, and I think my thumb touched my elbow.
So it hurts, it's all blown up, and I hurt it washing dishes.
So macho. I hate this. I need some testosterone I think. Or a cigar.
...back to the chicken: I'm swearing it off. Anything that won't scrub off with Brillo after a half-hour soak isn't something I want to put into my G.I. tract anymore.
Ok, Sissy Lippy is going to bed now.