Friday, July 13, 2007

Is there a Doctor in the House?

The DNB stomps down the stairs and stands before me, clad only in his boxer-briefs.

"Look at this," he demands.

Oh, no, I'm not going there. I tentatively look up. He's pointing to a nasty welt forming on his arm.

"Guess how I got that," he further demands. I haven't a clue, but from his tone, I imply that I have somehow caused it.

"From my straightening iron?" I ask timidly. I'm very good about turning it off, but the thing's a Chi (circle R) so it heats to about 12,000 degrees.

"No." I breathe a sigh of relief. "From a LIGHT BULB!"

I don't follow.

"I was in the shower," he explains. "Some water must have hit one of the light bulbs in the bathroom because it exploded all over the bathroom and me! A shard of the broken glass was so hot it burned my arm!"

"Oh my God," I reply. I didn't know about this water-light bulb phenomenon, but both of the lights in our bathroom have portions of the bulbs exposed. "Do we need to put something on that burn?"

"Nah, I'll be okay," he says, all manly and whatnot. It's fairly small, but blistered immediately. The DNB being a doctor, he points out that it's most definitely a second-degree burn.

After I clean up the bathroom, we prepare to head out to The Wedge, the local food co-op.

"Can you drive?" he asks.

"Sure, are you still tired?" He's just come off call, and although he got a lot of sleep, he still needed to nap when he got home.

"No," he says with a hint of a whine, "but I'm too . . . injured."

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