For the last few months, HH has decided that he needed to inflict pain on himself. Well not on purpose, the cards have just been dealt to him that way. He has been fighting a cold, a minute issue with continuous back spasm and a pregnant wife who believes that they need to hire a phychic to predict the sex of the baby because she is extremely impatient. The boy has had it rough! So when this minor event took place, it really did just seem, almost fitting, well in an unthoughtful sense.
You see, HH has his own bathroom/mudroom area in the house where he can have his own manly cleanup space. Well when you misjudge the depth perception, of the extact circumference, of the precise radius that your nose is away from the door, then attempt to shut it. Bad things can happen.
We think it is only broke in four places, so it should heal nicely in a couple of weeks.
Sincerely,
Farming Fabulously
Program Note: Lets rewind this fictional masterpiece to enhance, perhaps a more diverse synopsis. With an alarming emphasis on the pregnant wife who, just wanted a jar of pickled ginger. And was severely disdained that the outcome had to end so ruthlessly. Yet in hopes that next time, the carving would be met in a more promptly manor. Don't mess with a prego, who has carvings.
*I kid* *I kid*, I could never even hurt a flee. Unless?
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