Yesterday I was merrily framing my pictures, and marvelling at the power of my beautiful staple gun.

Wow! Isn’t it great? I thought, oh-so-innocently. Look at it go!

There were a couple of awkwardly-placed knots in the wood. Any of my previous staple guns would have melted in my hands, but not this little fella. What a hero.

PA-CHUNG! — straight through one knot.

PA-CHUNG! — straight through another.

PA-CHUNG! — straight through my thumb!

Oucho galacticus, that hurts! The little fella bit me! He bit me, the little—

I stop and stare for a while, marvelling at the staple now puncturing my nail, and what feels like my bone.

I almost don’t want to take it out. Just looking at it makes me feel queasy. But I know it’s going to get a whole lot worse. I mean, at least there’s no blood yet.

I pick up my pliers; choose some appropriate expletives, and bite my lip…

At first, it won’t budge. Gosh. It must really have dug in deep, the pesky critter. The unavoidable wiggling is sore as I apply more pressure.

It’s coming. Ooooh! Hmmph!

And now the rush to the bathroom to stem the twin geysers that have sprung from my beloved opposable digit.

After twenty minutes or so, the bleeding seems to be under control. And here’s the result…

A pair of near-invisible puncture wounds is the only clue that anything happened. And the painful throbbing of course.

The annoying thing is, I was only half way through my work. It took me hours to finish, one thumb short.

Here’s the dastardly culprit…

Hopefully, my thumb won’t turn black and fall off. Oh the perils of being an artist. I don’t know how I put up with it!