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cut down in my youth

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-eight years and a million words

A few years ago, my daughter was playing with my shaver. I wasn't present and didn't know. Mari later took the kids to Japan and I went to use the shaver. Starting with my eyebrows to keep the Politburo look to a minimum. And so it was that I shaved off part of an eyebrow and wound up going to work that day with no eyebrows.

Well, she's upped her game. As I was passing the bathroom last night she threw open the door of the bathroom, catching me across the chest. I fell to the ground, winded and gasping out curses. This morning I went to the clinic and learned that apart from the bruised ribs at the point of impact, the shock had travelled across the ribs and damaged the cartilage that connects the ribs to the floating bone in my chest.

Is she remorseful?

Well all right, I wasn't really cut down, and my youth was decades ago. I'll settle for "bruised in my dotage".