When fingers go postal

Oh the horror!  My hands are revolting against me!  They drop the pen after only a word or two and while typing they constantly go their own way.  Words become gibberish on the pages and my unhappy digits laugh.  They send sharp pains shooting up my arm after only 10 minutes at the key board and my wrist joins their follies with twinges of displeasure.

I am at a loss.  I haven’t misused them, as far as I can tell.  Sure, they pull long hours and must partake in working lunches.  They don’t get smoke or coffee breaks, and personal leave isn’t available.  Yet I supply them with the proper equipment and show them my appreciation with a new coat of paint once a month.  Isn’t that enough?  Or are they going to go union on me?

What is a writer to do?  Should I take them to the spa?  Wrap them in seaweed infused mud and dip them in melted wax before being grated, clipped and painted?  Should I let hot stones caress them or treat them to cold water therapy?  Maybe I should go the corporal route and punish them for their misdeeds?  Or given them a much-needed break and enlist my toes instead?


About adsimons

I'm about to embark on the wonder journey of publishing. Come join me as I struggle to get it right, land an agent and get published. All while raising my daughter alone and fighting just to keep my head over water.
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