I burned my fingers tonight.
It was stupid, really. I tried to steam a tamale in too little water. I used a ceramic plate as a lid because the pots with actual lids are wastefully large for this application. Some time late I smelled smoke, and took everything apart carefully, cooled the pot with water, and retrieved the mercifully edible tamale. The smoke smell ranged.
Back at the stove, I tried, foolishly, to pick up the plate. A quick spinal reaction, three jumps, more curses, and a run to the sink… ouch. Only first degree, but right on the fingertips.
It’s my left hand. Non-dominant. It’s hard to explain how crippling this is, though. Typing at speed requires two hands. Even at full speed, the words back up, but one handed is terrible. I can manage something like 20 words per minute with just my right hand. It’s not nearly enough.
Writing is not good. I have motor dysgraphia. My hands cramp and I slow to a fucking crawl. I can’t move. When I try my hand at handwriting, I
I need my words. This is how I breathe. Without a keyboard I suffocate. Burnt fingers are a collapsed lung and I am using ice as a respirator.