Wednesday, September 21, 2011

who works?

Homer and I love to tease each other about the condition of our hands. Sometimes people tell me my hands are soft. Because they are..

Homer's hands are rough and cracked. By mid-November they are cracked and bleeding. His Christmas and birthday presents always include some salve or ointment, a concoction with the shortest list of ingredients possible, meant to heal his poor hands up.

Evidence, my hands:

Nary a crack or snag. Not even a hang nail.
And now, here are Homer's:

Cuts, cracks, knicks, scars, calluses. Stains and spots.

He says the worst I get is a paper cut. Or a cramp hitting the shift key.

True that!

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