Look at the blog, Larry. Just look at that blog.

This is gonna be about Band-Aids. It's pretty great.

#28. That new Band-Aid smell. Just breeeeaatthhhheee it in.

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So it’s been like two weeks since I last blogged, but I’m lifting myself up out of this rut. This rut made out of an absence of Band-Aid posts.

So the plan for this particular entry is as follows:

I need experience. And Band-Aids. Band-Aid experience. So I’m gonna open up a box of Band-Aids, take one out of the box, unwrap it, and put it on my finger. All while describing the experience (EXPERIENCE) of doing so in painstaking detail. I’m aiming for something that’s almost like poetry, what with the detail put into words and lines and stanzas and so forth, but I don’t actually want it to be poetry. Just detail on an awesomely intricate level.

Ready? Cause I sure am!

 

The tiny film of sweat on the pad of my thumb sticks to the navy blue smoothness of the box.

As the box opens, each cardboard tab grinds against each other- the friction, the noise, the vibrations it sends up my arm are just enough to make the inside of my ear twitch and the hair stand up on my arms. I can’t stand the sound of paper-on-paper. It makes me queasy.

There’s enough empty space in the box for a whole ‘nother boxful of Band-Aids- the ones in there are all huddled to one side. The folds and crinkles at the corners of each wrapper jut out- some synchronized with the Band-Aids around them, some corners rogue-ishly poking into the sides of their cohorts.

I reach in to grab one and the side of my thumb hits the carton- all the Band-Aids inside jump and jostle from the sudden movement. One lone bandage sits free from the others once the pandemonium has ceased, and the paper surrounding it feels dry against the tip of my finger as it slides out of the box.

The wrapper makes slight crackling noises as I move my thumb with the navy blue arrows at the top. When it first begins to separate my fingertips cling on for dear life- there’s barely any paper to hold onto. I pull and thousands of minute strands of glue show themselves before breaking off and vanishing forever. I start to pull faster, and the Band-Aid peeks its head out more and more, the rustle and pull of the paper causing it to twitch from side to side.

When there’s no more paper left to pull, the Band-Aid plummets into my lap with a quick ‘fluhmp.’ The Band-Aid jumps in anticipation as I prepare to pull the tabs off- the ends of the Band-Aid bend as the tabs peel away from the sticky underside. When each tab disappears, each end flops over, having lost the firmness of the paper keeping it sturdy. It holds close to my finger, the individual grains in the cloth shining golden in the light, and it’s around my finger with a snugness that has just a tiny amount of pressure- enough for me to notice, not enough for any discomfort.

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Written by mandudeman

March 30, 2011 at 4:43 pm

Posted in Week 7: Experience

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