I was in a hurry last night, trying to get dinner ready for when the girls got home from the gym. I should have made it before I went to a meeting at the middle school, but somehow thought the meeting would only be a half hour, not an hour and half. So what do I do? I cut a chunk from my finger. With a dull knife. Did I mention I was in a hurry? My right hand was cutting faster than my left hand was getting out of the way. Not a little paper cut slice either, but a huge v shaped gouge in the fleshy side of my finger. Chop, chop, slice? Very different feeling. I knew immediately what I'd done. All I could do was stop and hold it until Don got home from picking up the girls. After I shook the hand around a little, spraying the kitchen. Every time I let it go, it poured blood. I'm fine with everyone else's injuries, mine make me faint. I still think it needs stitches, but I'm afraid to take the band aid off to find out.
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