Here's yet another fine example of how I'm incompetent at life! I did laundry this weekend, and by Wednesday I decided that maybe I should hang my clean clothes up in my closet rather than wander naked and cold out into the living room to hunt through my laundry bag for something to wear every morning, and also because they weren't going to be clean for very long once Kristen realized a bag of clothes would make a great sleeping nest. So, hangers it would be.
"AAAAAGGHHRRRGGHH! FUCK!" I shouted from the bedroom.
"What? What happened?" Fish asked, as he came running in from the kitchen where he had been patiently and lovingly taking out my trash for me so I wouldn't have to traverse the spider infested back stairwell of my house to get outside.
"I sliced the fuck out of my thumb." And I had.
"How did that happen?"
Yes, how did that happen? Because it seems to me that hanging a skirt on a hanger with little clippy things should be pretty routine. But somehow while squeezing the clip open I managed to lose my grip on it, spin it around, and at some point slice a major gash in the side of my left thumb.
It's how I roll.
And I bled like a stuck pig I tell you. I dripped my way to the bathroom and cleaned it, then, when my used-to-be-a-lifeguard I-know-first-aid instincts kicked in I looked at it and determined that it was deep enough and long enough that it probably wouldn't hurt to have a stitch or two put in it. So of course I just put a bandaid on it real tight instead because scars are bad-ass.
All was well until the next day, when I took my bandaid off, planning to wash my hands and change the dressing. Which was a great idea really, except that I am sort of easily distracted, and hey I should give Kristen a treat and drink some pineapple juice and find a belt to wear and...I felt a searing pain as my non-bandaged wound was stabbed and ripped further by a belt buckle. I cursed my dumb ass, cleaned and dressed it again, put a belt and and went off to the bar.
Where I decided that I should not just drop, but squeeze my lime into the mouth of my Corona. With my left hand. So that the lime juice could drip down my thumb, under my bandaid and into my cut.