Sunday, May 29, 2005

My Purple Finger Hurts

I've learned to make good use of my word processor's spell check feature because I've been making a lot of typos during the past several days. I usually don't do this, but at the moment, I have a purple finger and it hurts.

So how did I get a purple finger?

I fell one moring on my way to work. I was distracted by something and wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I tripped on an uneven section of the sidewalk, rocketed across a strip of gravel on my stomach, and smashed the middle finger of my left hand against the curb. Ouch!

As soon as I determined that I had no broken bones, I left the scene in a hurry before some good samaritan decided to come to my rescue--or worse, call 911 on a cell phone.

What was I distracted by?

The house across the street.

I was looking at what is rumoured to be a very expensive house in a neighborhood where the asking price of most of the houses would probably be about $200,000. A couple of years ago, I watched this house being built. When it was completed, it was a nice, rather plain three bedroom house with a two car garage. And then someone, presumably the owner, got other ideas. He or she added another room, a patio, and an RV garage. Later on, I saw a work crew building a portico onto the front entrance. Shortly after that, a wall with two custom-made metal gates surrounded the property. One morning I noticed professional landscapers working at the house, and the next day the front yard was dotted with juvenile palm trees, assorted cacti, and other desert plants.

A few days later someone mentioned that the house was listed on the market for $600,000.

For almost two years the house had a For Sale sign stuck in front of it. Although the sign disappeared several months ago, I have seen no indication that anyone lives there. In fact, the house is still under construction. The two car garage and the RV garage are being converted into rooms.

Last Tuesday, as I strolled along, I looked at the house and wondered where the people who will eventually live there will park their cars. If you sign a mortgage agreement on a $600,000 house, you probably don't take the bus very often.

That's when I tripped.

By the end of the work day my finger was dark purple and throbbed like crazy. When I was getting ready to leave, I looked for my hat, a necessity in this part of the country. That's when I realized it had fallen off when I tripped. I went back to look for it, but it was gone.

I still have a purple finger, but it's a lighter shade of purple, and it doesn't hurt so much. And I have a new hat.

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