I have a grommet injury. It would be a completely unremarkable injury (especially pour moi), excepting I still – weeks later – have what I thought was a blood blister on my finger (it’s dark and bloody-looking, but it never turned into a blister – technically, I can’t say what it is). I could hold this finger in the air and say, “Look at my festive grommet wound,” but you might be offended (given that it’s on THAT finger).

Pathetically, I caused this injury while applying tiny scrapbooking grommets. It might have been impressive to have been wounded had I been using sail cloth, a gargantuan hammer and grommets the size of hamburger patties. Nope – tiny grommets and an elfin-sized hammer. I believe the wee cobbler in that kid’s song uses a hammer this exact size. You know – the “rap-a-tap-tap” shoemaker? Wait – is he a “wee little man” or is he a “wee little elf”? I know that there were elves who played an integral part in historic story-telling shoemaking by some means. Perhaps it was they who took over in that story where the shoemaker can’t get all the shoes made, so he falls asleep (perhaps he can’t finish his work because he has a substance abuse problem – hard to say) and the elves made all the wee shoes. At least he was grateful – that LUSH!

Anyhoo, it was rather a small hammer; but don’t think it didn’t pack quite a punch! I have the mysterious and enduring lesion to prove it.

Oh, the life of COMPLETE EXHILARATION I lead! Thrills all day, chills all night – it’s quite remarkable.