Yes, A Butter Knife

A longer hiatus than last time, even! Here's the gory story, IF ANYONE CARES:

On Dec. 1, I was grumpily cleaning the kitchen at home. I was in a hurry, possibly because some key reality tv was coming on soon, so I wasn't using common sense.

I was holding a butter knife in my right hand, clenched like a dagger, scraping dried cheese off a sheet pan. It was propped in the sink, with water running over it. The sheet pan slipped, the knife slipped too, and slid across the joint of my little finger. Through an amazing alignment of dumbassitude, the knife cut it just the right place, and JUST deep enough, to sever the tendon that controls the top joint.

Of course, I didn't realize this right away. I'm a clumsy cook, so I forever cut myself, break dishes, and light dishtowels on fire (shut up). I thought it was a garden-variety cut, so I put pressure on it and went downstairs to get Glowboy to help me bandage it.

Glowboy peers at the cut and says, "Uh...can you bend your finger?"

I tried. No dice. I needed a moment to process this, so I passed out. When I came to, GB was packing me up to go to the ER. I hit the bargaining stage at this point.

"We don't HAVE to go. Let's stay on this nice comfy chair. I'll continue my nap, and when I wake up, it will be healed."

Well, damn, apparently it doesn't work that way.

We drive to the ER, which was really pretty painless...both viscerally and time-wise. Three stitches and a hand surgeon referral later, I'm booking a freaking operating room.

Had the surgery at one of those drive-through clinics, and was stuck in a cast for 6 weeks. A CAST. The cast just came off on Monday, and I'm in physical therapy now. Unreal. All this angst for an injury to my little finger.

So, obviously, no waitressing. Sucked to be without that income around Xmas. And even though the cast's off, I'm still grounded from serving (not to mention karate) for 6-8 weeks. It's not so bad in the scheme of things, though.

But Glowboy won't let me use butter knives anymore.