I’m clumsy. Not in a Bella Swan “oh-look-I-tripped-into-a-cute-boy-and-almost-got-hit-by-a-van” clumsy, but more a, “I-just-poked-myself-in-the-eye-with-tweezers” clumsy. I can’t, for the life of me, walk in a straight line. I shouldn’t own sharp objects. I really shouldn’t. The only reason I have sharp knives in my house is because one summer–in an attempt to supplement my waitressing money–I got a second job selling knives. Door-to-door. I’ll let you imagine how that panned out. But that’s a story for another time.
I routinely nick myself with said sharp knives when cutting slices of cheese, chopping vegetables, or trimming my fingernails. Inevitably, this happens:
Curse you, cuticle!
Ouch, right? Well, no problem. We’ll just rinse off the near-fatal wound and get a Band-Aid.
They don't taste like you'd expect.
Except, when I open the delicious box of Band-Aids, I find only two things:
Oh, good. If my finger had a pimple, I'd be covered!
Only beneficial if I cut off the finger.
I mumble a few curse words and then remember the last time I bought Band-Aids was in 1996 and I probably used all of the good Band-Aids a week after I bought the box.
Instead of learning my lesson and making a note to buy more Band-Aids, I wrap my finger in a paper towel and keep it place with Scotch Tape or a hair tie. (I’m like MacGyver, only better.)
Finding one of these is like finding the Golden Ticket to Willy Wonka's factory. Or like finding $5.
February 29, 2012 at 11:02 am
As a man married to a clumsy/accident prone woman–seriously, I just get the peroxide and bandages on standby when she helps me in the kitchen–I salute you!
E.J. Wesley recently posted..Wherein We Launch the Epic – A Book Birth
February 29, 2012 at 11:12 am
My poor, poor husband has to deal with the same stuff. He’s also on standby for when I (inevitably) spill an entire pot of marinara sauce on myself. Your wife and I would totally get along! Especially when we’re in the ER together.