In trying to get my air-conditioner out of my studio window (on gorgeous days like today, I like to have the window open), I mashed my drawing hand so hard in between the sash and the window that I had to wail for Paul to come and extricate me. It hurt like hell, and I must've jumped up and down saying the f-word for about fifteen minutes. Three days later, my fingertips still smart.
Ow.