Why I Should Not Be Allowed To Own Sharp Objects

I only wish I was lying about this.

I have cut myself again. And I'm not even goth. What's that about?

So, last night I broiled up some red meat for dinner... a late dinner, but dinner. As I was carrying my plate and utensils (utensils resting on the plate, mind you, a bad choice about which I have now learned my lesson) from the cooking area to the dining area, the steak knife started to fall.

My brain decided since something was falling, I had to catch it.

The knife, falling blade first, went into my thumb and kinda "bounced" out.

Remember how last time I said blood was everywhere or whatever? This time it really was. I thought I was gonna have a full-on freak-out.

About the time I was thinking maybe a trip to the emergency room was in order, I realized the bleeding had... well, not stopped, but seemed to have every intention of considering the possibility of stopping sometime before bedtime.

So then I got to clean up blood from all over the place, which is good practice should I decide to slaughter my own cattle.

On the up side, this has made me go see a doctor, which means it has made me finally make a decision about which doctor suggestion from co-workers would be the best one.

I've got a good feeling about this doctor. He may be the one. I didn't ask, but he appears to be younger than me--so, odds are, I won't have to doctor-shop again until after I'm dead.

Anyway, I just wanted to share, in case you were wondering why it looked like all my spaces were typed by my right hand.