Tuesday, September 29, 2009

blog #339 >> Almost Needed Stitches

(WARNING: This gets gory, not for those with a week stomach... also unsuitable for young cow creamers and eggs.)

As I'm sitting here typing this with one lonely hand, I ask myself, "Do I need stitches?" I finally finished cleaning up the gore in the kitchen, and the bleeding seems to have subsided for the time being. But the pain is growing, which I'll accept as a good sign, since it didn't hurt at all when I first sliced it open. But the real reason I don't want to brave the emergency room is... (Well, outside the fact that it's late, and it's bound to take until 3am, and the flu is going around, and I am terrified of needles, and I feel like a wimp compared to my dad who lost four fingers and gouges his hand all the time is...) I really don't want to relay the story any more than I need to. I mean, why can't I ever hurt myself like a normal person? You know regular everyday accidents, such as robot attacks and the like. I always end up with these long involved stories, with unbelievable situations, which normally end with me in a cast or all the skin pealed away from the palms of my hands.

This story begins innocently and safely enough... I was baking cookies. Yes, sweet-delectable thumb print cookies with my delicious freshly made mint jelly. I needed to separate an egg, so I reached for a bowl and knocked over my darling cow creamer. I tried to catch it, but I was holding an egg which broke on impact, knocking the cow creamer into the batter bowl, breaking the cow creamer cleanly in half right down the middle of his belly. Poor cow creamer! You will never be able to vomit cream into my tea ever again. Not that I used you very often, but you deserved a better end! Well, my hand was covered in egg, so I picked the cow creamer up put him together. (He looked perfectly fine sitting there on the counter.) And I sat him aside until I had finished baking the cookies. After I finished the cookies I thought, "Oh I'll wash the cow creamer, glue him together, and put him away." I had sort of forgotten "where" he was broken, or even really that the cow creamer was broken at all. When I grabbed the cow creamer he broke apart in my hand slicing my little finger, really, REALLY deep. And after a great deal of bleeding, I got it closed up with a couple of band-aids. I don't think I've ever had a cut bleed THAT much! It was even worse than the time I tried to use a scalpel when I couldn't find an Exacto knife. Anyhow, I suppose it will be fine. After all, I've never heard of a cow creamer killing anyone.
Good night!
p.s. This episode was however fatal for the cow creamer. After the cow creamer cut me I was rather cross with it and decided to throw him away instead of fix him. Plus I doubt he would have held cream without leaking after that anyhow.


Anonymous said...

:-( Hope you will be OK

Anonymous said...

how are you doing? I saw a cow creamer today and thought of you. :)

Theresa said...

It's much better than it was. (It's past the purple phase of infection.) And now I'm thinking I've been a bit of a wimp.