a wrist, a finger

My heart melted a little bit today when Pancho jokingly told me he's secretly planning the amputation of one of my fingers. He says if my wrist was an excuse for me to stay then surely a finger will do just as well. As the days left before Ireland dwindle, my heart strings are getting pulled in multiple directions. I want to, I need to, go to Ireland. But I also can't bear to go. Oh!