So, I was up late the other night painting by myself while my husband was out of town. When I slid the roller brush onto the roller I caught the soft part of my littlest finger between the teethy metal parts and the roller. Ouch. I tried to get it off myself but my efforts only made the problem worse. The children were all sleeping. I headed up the stairs trying not to think of the pain or the flashes of heat that accompanied it. "Simeon" I said in an urgent whisper, "I need you to help me."
After a few pleas he awoke from a deep sleep. I turned on the lights and gave him clear instructions. He pulled the brush off the roller, freeing my finger. "Oh," I said with relief, "It's fine... It's fine." I had worried that I might need medical attention. Simeon assessed the wound as he wiped his eyes, "I don't know," he said groggily, "It isn't the prettiest either."