Minor Annoyance

I just looked it up. Back at the end of July, moving N out of her apt., I mashed my finger in the cage-style elevator door. It is now grown out to the point where the nail is separated about a third of the way across the quick, and maybe half way down the nail. Not seperated enough to cut it off with clippers, but enough to catch on stray objects and snag. I don't mind losing the nail, but I hate the process.
I also found myself getting my blood pressure up about Wife today. About a relative triviality. Late last week, my good nail clippers disappeared from the bathroom. Wife is good about taking them and not returning them. She said that she thought they had dropped onto the floor. I've been searching for 5 days, halfheartedly at first, and now thoroughly. Then last night, she admits that she's pretty sure they fell into the flower vase sitting on the sink. Sure enough, there they are, rusted as hell. Now these clippers are about 30 or 40 years old. They don't make nail clippers like these anymore. Sharp, clean cut, heavy duty and well built. The fact that they RUST says something about them. The fact that a) she didn't dump them out when she knew they fell in pissed me off. and b) that she didn't tell me they were in there for a week.
Gods, sometimes I really want a drink. I will on Friday. Payday. Darts at a bar with friends.