Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Just Call Me "The Fonz"

For the next week (or two), just call me the Fonz.

Really. I did a horribly stupid thing while making dinner last night and as a result, I am now a thumb popping, bandaged idiot.

After finally answering the age old question, "what's for dinner," (Sweet and Sour Chicken, if you were wondering) I began making the necessary preparations for my delicious meal. So there I go, happily pulling out all my veggies, defrosting my chicken breasts, and pulling out all my ingredients. I grab my cutting board, my nice sharp cutting knife and my round, yellow onion (I think they have more flavor than white ones.). I slice off one circle because hey, I'm only making enough for two servings. I chop, chop, chop, mindlessly working with happy little worker's hands and then it happens.

Must have thought my meal would have tasted better with a little sprinkle of Julie a la thumbkin 'cause I chopped a little too close to my left thumb. *Insert hee-bee-jeeby shiver here* It's like watching your life in slow motion. You see the knife go down, you recognize that it should NOT be in your thumb, and bam. It hits you. You've just tried to sever your finger.

Brilliant. I live alone. I can't go running into the next room crying, "Help! Help! I've been sliced and diced!" No, ma'am. So when I see the nice, new crescent shape slash in my finger, I'm not going to lie to you, readers, my back teeth went soft.


I'm sure my neighbors LOVED hearing me squeal like a stuck pig. Gah. The blood. Ick.

You know, they always say you really don't recognize the pain until you recognize that something is wrong. Thus I REFUSED to gaze upon the damage for too long. Only long enough to see that I did not actually cut through my entire thumb. Thrusting the now tender appendage under cold water, I took deep breaths trying desperately to remember what the next steps I had to take.

1) Stop cutting finger. Check.

2) Scream in pain. Check.

3) Cry. Well, half-way there.

4) Clean and bandage wound.

A-HA!Something I had yet to do. OK, I say to myself, you can do this. Just find the band-aids and neosporin and you're good to go.

And indeed, I did get my thumb all bandaged up and after a quick call to Mom JUST to make sure I did not need stitches, I was fine. And thank you to Pyro Man for being so concerned as to suggest I super glue my thumb together. Still not too sure about that one...

To prove to myself that the knife is not as deadly as the person weilding it, I continued on with dinner and it was mighty good. Not even salty from the blood spillage. I kid! There was no blood spillage!

It's just a little tender and I'm quickly adapting to not using my left thumb. Instead I'm constantly in a state of "thumb's up." I look like The Fonz. Seriously.

EH! Good dinner!

EH! Good book!

See what I mean? It's a bit ridiculous.

One last tip though, the next morning when you remove the bandage, don't inspect it for too long or else you'll find yourself sitting on the side of the tub with your head between your legs trying not to a) throw up or b) pass out. Heaven help me if I ever have daring children.

Hey, it's already hump day! EH!

Happy Wednesday everybody!

1 comment:

  1. Ok. So this is one of my favorite posts of yours. Not because you cut your thumb half off BUT because you are just too funny! Since I saw you this morning I know that you are alive and I was able to chuckle a little while reading this! But I just thought you should know, that I enjoyed this recap of your evening! :-)


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