pixiecrinkle | (no subject)

So I wrote a whole big post last night (with one hand) about how my right hand is killing me. I hit it on the drawer handle of a big file cabinet when leaving work Tuesday. It immediately bruised. Last night it was swollen, despite anti-inflammatory drugs. So I didn't knit, then iced it, and slept in my braces.

It feels better this morning, but it's still pretty nasty. Last night it was hurting bad enough that I questioned whether I'd snapped a small bone in my hand or not, but I'm not so sure now. I also still have the inexplicable knot on my forearm. They're in a direct line from one another, so it looks like something awful happened.

First, I was pretending to be a reporter for Columbus Alive (I did write for them very briefly a few years ago) and was interviewing a woman at the Ohio Craft Museum, about how the recent lioness sightings in Columbus had impacted their knitting program. Apparently, I just wanted to know about the knitting and was being sneaky in getting my info. In the meantime, I found out they had a job opening in their communications department [sidebar: this is weird because they have a staff of about 4 people, and I did interview for a job there about 4 years ago, but nothing like this.] I left, and ran into a guy who was also applying for the job.

Upon going home, I noticed a large snake, approximately 15 feet long, lying on my kitchen floor in that nook between the cabinet bottoms and the floor. I only freaked out because the things was *fast*. It kept going in and out of a hole in the floor. I picked it up and it immediately sunk it's fangs into my hand. So I dropped it and ran outside, only to find myself on the porch of the house I grew up in, with another, slightly larger snake. I grabbed it and tried to step on it, but this one had fangs, plus some sort of scorpion-like stinger on it's tail, so it got me in the hands and the feet.

I woke up shortly after this one and realized my wrist braces were scratching my hands. I think that's what the "snake bites" were.

[EDIT: I forgot this part until I actually saw this person today, but at the museum in the dream, one of my former co-workers from the comm dept (the one we refer to as "Vince Neil" because of her 80s hair) was working at the museum, and I was pissed because she was doing two full time jobs, which I felt was unfair to my employer. Her hair was still bad in the dream too.]