Choppy, Choppy Little Pinky

It is black Friday. I just found out today that it means this is when the stores gain the profits to keep them in the "black" and out of the "red." I thought it just ment that if you worked retail... today really... REALLY sucks.

Case in point: I found myself numbling driving to work at my new job, contemplating whether I really needed the $12.50 I would likely earn today and it wasn't even 4:30 in the morning. It was supposed to be a grueling eight and a half hours of explaining why the ad that just came out containing a 20% off coupon featured all of the items in which you could not use the coupon with. Fortuntely, the God's smiled on me and someone called in for their evening shift, allowing me to go home at 7:30am with a heartfelt promise that I would return at 5:00 to close. You can't imagine my joy when that person later called and agreed to go in afterall and I got the rest of the day off!

Now I'm back at home and looking forward to a clean house when it happens. I took a nice slice out of my pinky finger with a bread knife. After knowing me for seven years, when Mike hears the words: "Mike, I'm bleeding," he instinctively prepares for a trip to the hospital. After the whole 5 digit kidney stone experience, however, I decided that I was probably better off to just lose the finger.

Once things were back under control Mike finally asked the question that he asks everytime I end up in a situation like this: "Why can't you be more careful?"
I tried to explain to him my tradition of injuries dated back to well before I knew him but he wasn't buying it. Frankly, I knew it was just a matter of time before something happened, now that I have a nice knife set. I figured it would be much worse. I fully anticipated the day that I would somehow manage to get a carving knife wedged into my cornea. This was nothing. Infact, its almost a tradition. The first time I have hacked at important limbs (are there limbs that aren't important?) was all the way back in the second grade when we were making applesauce and we were actually given knives to cut the apples with. Is it just me, or does this spell disaster no matter how you "slice" it with a group of second graders? Anyway, I was the lucky winner that peeled apart a finger and the rest is a blurry haze of hysteria.

I'm pretty sure that this happens because my mom never let me play with enough sharp objects as a kid. I'm still getting used to them. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving.