Paper kills, or at least it stings really bad

My one small hope for each day I work at the office is that I don't get a papercut.

I've been working at the clinic for about a month now, and my main project for this whole time has been the filing system. When we got the medical files from Dad's old place of work, they were stapled every which way and all thrown in a box (well, six boxes), not even remotely in alphabetical order. So, my task has been to put these in file folders, write names, put alphanumeric stickers on them, and file them into this tall cabinet we have. (I hate filing A's and B's, because my arms get tired.)

With the help of my coworkers, getting things organized has been pretty easy. Sandy was a huge help with writing names on folders. The one thing that annoys me is actually placing the files in the cabinet. Everyday, I seem to get a new papercut just from leafing through the files, or by scraping some skin off a knuckle as I slide one in place. At the end of last week, I counted no less than ten nasty little knicks on my already dry, tiny hands. There are a bunch of free lotion bottles all over the office thanks to drug representatives, but they mostly just make the papercuts I do have sting a little more.

Because this is the weekend, I've enjoyed a slight reprieve from the paper battlefield, and enough time has passed to let my hands scab over. I guess that's the one good thing about papercuts, they heal quickly. I don't expect that to last however. Tomorrow is another day in the paper trenches.