On Sunday, while rushing into the casita to retrieve his camera, Dave smashed his finger in the security door. He's not usually a curser, but that day he was. After several hours of being iced down (and a couple of painkillers later), the finger was well on its way to feeling better--until Dave smashed it again in the bathroom door. Of course I kept a straight face after the first smashing, but I'll admit that it was impossible to keep a straight face after the second smashing of the same finger. (Oh, trust me: You'd've laughed, too.)
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