Wednesday, February 10, 2010


We usually hear "Aw" in connection with a cute little kitten or a cuddly baby.  But "awl" has a different connotation for me.

My little daughters were about 6 and 4 years old.  Lynn was working and we had dropped her off at Sears fabric department for a stint selling cloth.  We needed to pick up something at the hardware store on the way home.

I left the girls in the car for a minute while I just ran in the place.  There was a table filled with awls on sale, a good price.  You never know when you want to poke a hole in leather or something needing an awl.  I couldn't resist and it only took a second to add an awl to my purchase.  It was put in a paper bag.  When I got to the car, I tossed the bag onto the seat and got in.

The butt of the awl inside the bag had lodged against the back of my seat with the point inside the bag pointing straight up and out.  I got in and sat on the point, which immediately penetrated my buttock.

I couldn't believe what I had done to myself, all by myself.  I looked in the rearview mirror at my little girls and told them we unexpectedly had to go to a doctor's right away.  I had no idea how clean the shaft was and I figured I had a nice deep puncture wound in my backside.  I was not in great pain and I was not disabled in any way.  Just embarrassed, just chagrined, just angry at myself.  

The doctor's visit was quick and quite satisfactory.  He said it had bled enough that I need not worry and that it would heal quickly and cleanly.  It did.  I  have tried to be more careful what I sit on since.

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