Once upon a time, I was taking a shower at command central, aka, the Dillon house and the phone rang. That was back in the day when all we had were landlines, so I was kind of struggling into a towel or whatever to go answer the phone. Just as I was exiting the bathroom door, Mr. Rank and Mr. Odiferous (my cousin Grinch and my uncle Duke) barged in the front door and Duke answered the phone. Yes of course it was OK for them to barge in without knocking (and answer the phone). We were all brought up to enter other family members’ homes and cabins without knocking. I spent what seemed like ordinate amounts of time this last summer reminding the wonderful, well-mannered young men my cousins have brought up that they didn’t have to knock before entering the Moomincabin. Just barge on in. On the other hand, Cap’n Queen Leila seems to get it. Somebody over there? I’ll just barge on in. Love it.
Anyway… Way back in the day when Mr. Rank and Mr. Odiferous were building a ski chalet on the beach for Radical Betty, they didn’t always have easy access to a shower, so sometimes they would come into town and take one at my parents’ house. And that’s what they were there to do that day. I think… Or maybe they were there to borrow my crappy old car, a rusty old Pinto wagon. My old coot was forever lecturing me about not lending out my car to anyone but then anytime Mr. Odiferous needed a station wagon, my old coot would order me to let my uncle use the car. It was OK. Dad and Duke were war pilots and I did trust them with that old beater. The larger lesson was pounded into my brain and, to this day I rarely lend my cars to anyone.
So, the contraption that keeps my little finger immobilized has been rank and odiferous since the day they put it on me. That was the day they put the screw in my little finger. I’m sure it was all very sterile but it smelled like hell right from the beginning. Iodine or whatever the hell that stuff was. Add that to sweat and whatever and you don’t really even want to know. Three more days.