Insult Injury to Injury
There I was, at the counter minding my own business, slicing an avocado for Carter. I was mid day dream (thinking about this lip gloss, probably). I cut the avocado down the middle, pulled it apart into two halves, scooped one side out no problem, sliced it, and then decided to start on the other side. This is where things started to go downhill; normally, like a normal human being, I grab a spoon and scoop out the pit. Because of said daydream a proceeded to use my knife to try to stab the pit in order to save myself the labor intensive step of taking a spoon out of the drawer that was three inches to my left.
What comes next is a bit gruesome--you've been warned. As I picked up the avocado in order to get more leverage with the stabbing (curse you, lip gloss) the knife slipped (obviously, why wouldn't it slip on a slippery avocado pit?) and promptly wedged itself into the palm of my left hand. I'm not really sure if it actually go stuck in there or not because it all happened so quickly, but I can tell you one thing, I was certain it had gone all the way through (I immediately thought, this is what it feels like to get shot in the hand with an arrow. Don't ask me why, but I've always been terrified of getting shot with an arrow. It seems way more painful than any other kind of shot wound. Maybe this comes from movies I was forced to watch in history class in high school. People were always getting shot with arrows and they always went all the way through). Fear not, it really did not go all the way through, but it sure felt like it. What followed was a small mess of things involving the color of red that I shall not mention because injuries like these make me woozy. I have to say, I do have a high pain tolerance (natural birth, anyone?), but the sight of unmentionables coming out of my own hand is just not something I like to dwell on.
Right--I also promised information about a run. Tonight, me and my throbbing hand ran 4 miles. This was quite the accomplishment because 1) it's the first time I ran that far without walking at all and without being completely dead at the end and 2) I did it with a sad stab wound and a zebra band-aid that flew off when I was just getting ready for the sprinting portion at the end. Which leads me to a confession. Normally, as a responsible citizen, I would pick up my flown off band-aids. However, I was just nearing the most important portion of my run and as I saw the band aid lifted into the air I realized it was just not possible to retrieve it because it would have ruined everything (meaning I would've had to stop and then I would've wanted to stay stopped). It wasn't worth the sacrifice. Forgive me.