This blogger does not do twitter, but if he did, he would have tweeted an expletive at approx 15:45 gmt.
I was repairing some outside stairs, ones with timber treads. The wood, despite various anti moss and algae treatments, had become somewhat slippery in wet weather, so after much head-scratching, we decided to put a grip surface of expanded galvanised steel mesh on each tread.
Good idea, it works well. I put my carpentering hat on, repaired and replaced several treads, including a brilliantly scarfed joint that a real carpenter would not be able to fault (I'd be standing there with a hammer and a wrecking bar, so he'd be well advised to keep a straight face and say "Look at that perfect scarf-joint!")...
And then that steel mesh. It's razor-edged when you cut it, but I was careful, and lost almost no blood.
Fixed down with about 250 clout-head galvanised nails.
I got to about 237 without mishap, then THWAP! steel hammer, finger. I'd been doing that tough, manly, two strike routine, none of that girly tap-tap-tapping.. a tap to set the tip into the wood, a thwack! to drive it all the way home.
My phone rang, my mind had been doing zen stuff, floating, leaving the body to get on with the job, but the phone intruded, and conscious brain zipped back into place and OW! OOOOOO! I howled.
I'm tough. Really tough, honest.
Well. Maybe not. Right now, several hours later it's doing that red-flashing throbbing stuff. Like in the cartoons.
My plan now involves a couple of hours of pathetic moaning. Why am I telling you all this?
Because in lieu of having somebody kiss it better, or stick a hello-kitty band-aid on it, I need to garner a large dose of sympathy from the internet.
Sigh. Maybe I should just take an aspirin.
If it needs to be amputated, I'll let you know. The more cynical of you may realise that as the finger's not even swollen, and the nail's only got a little bit of darkness behind it, that I'll live, and won't need crisply starched nurses to murmur comforting words.... Sigh.
(And that, folks, is why twitter will never get my business. How could I moan about hammering my pinky in 140 characters inclusive of spaces? I'm verbose. Twitter? get stuffed.)