another weekend passeth

It has been a rather eventful Sunday. I offered to make potato bake for Sunday luncheon and managed to chop a slice into my finger. I thought it was minor until I realised that the blood wasn't oozing but rather making tiny rivers down my arm.

I should be proud that it took over a year of living on my own to inflict a semi-serious injury to myself (barring burning my thumb on the oven elements.) and since I am a strong and independent woman... I called my mother and proceeded to have a freak the $%&! out moment over the phone. I tell no lies for the sake of drama when I tell you that I said "Mom, I have cut off my finger, well actually I have sliced the tip of my finger off, well actually sliced into the tip of my finger. But it is bleeding a lot. Like fountaining all over the place."

My mother advised me to tell MrT to hurry over and save me and that it was okay to be scared.

MrT arrived (eventually) and took one look and took me off to the hospital. The nurse at the hospital told me in no uncertain terms that my wound could not be called Not Serious even though I was correct that stitches were unneeded.

So after a medical practitioners opinion, I felt less silly for having a tears and snollies melt down after letting the knife slip while chopping potatoes.

My mother offered to take a look 3 hours later after luncheon when it was still bleeding through the bandages. So I proudly eased off the bindings to show my fresh scars of the war with my kitchen knife. She took a look at the flap of skin waving from the C-shaped incision into my pinky finger and went "eeeeh it's not so bad. What was all the fuss about?"

BOOM! It seems I am a drama queen after all.

Now almost 12 hours later it is only leaking that clear plasma stuff through the bandage... typing is amusing and driving is not. I have the rest of the evening to come up with a convincing back story before I go to work.

The funny thing is that the knife I cut myself with is part of the set that MrT gave me for my birthday. I have actually managed to inflict a flesh wound on my fingers with 3 of the 5 in the set... I fear the other two lie in wait in the box for their opportunities to demand their bloody sacrifice from my digits. I am not even normally that accident prone, except when it comes to really really sharp knives. This sounds like the premise for a horror movie.

"BLOODY KNIFE SET
FEED THE KNIVES BEFORE THEY FEED ON THE LIFE COURSING THROUGH YOUR FINGERS"