What an idiot.

I get the idiot of the day award today.  I was slicing up some pernil for dinner, that is basically proscuitto still on the bone.  It is utterly delicious, and utterly easy to slice yourself up.

Check!

Our regular knife is duller than the side of my finger, so I pulled out the lovely French handy-dandy folding knife that we have been using for the task.  I think it was designed with nefarious purposes in mind.  The thing is so sharp it's ridiculous.  When I bought it, I specifically bought a larger size because it has a mechanism that locks the blade open. Can you see where this is going?

Those mechanisms?  They work better if they are engaged, and you are safer if you check that they are engaged.  I did neither of these things.  I simply assumed it was engaged, as that is how we ALWAYS keep it.  Since the pig leg arrived in the house, we simply haven't folded it!

Until I folded it closed on my finger.  With some force behind it.

I am such an idiot.

It cut, I bled.  and bled.  and bled.

I phoned down to work to find out if the local medical center would be able to stitch it, or if I would have to go to the hospital.  No the locals could do it.  You see, it is a neat cut, but it is a lateral cut on the back of my finger near the knuckle.  Every time I bend the finger, it gapes open again.  NOT conducive to healing.

I bled some more.

Finally I decided that offical 'direct pressure' was needed, sat down, forced eldest (bless her hilarious crabby heart) to finish cooking dinner and applied the aforementioned direct pressure.  I stopped bleeding like I intended to feed a semi-starved family of Romanian vampires....and things improved.  I then found the medical tape and asked the man to help me out taping the thing up. The man gets a wee bit woozy around blood and is far too nice and careful.  I let him put on the first bit of tape, but it was WAY to loose to control this sucker.

I did this once before - sliced up a finger - though much more thoroughly that time...five stitches and it was still pumping blood two hours later.  In spurts.  Like a little miniature artery working away.  You could take my pulse by it.  Kinda cool in a messy way.

Not so bad this time.  I took over the taping job and lashed that bandage down like I was taping up a stick for the Stanley Cup Playoffs (that would not be the Leafs of course).

The tip turned quite purple, but the bleeding is still under control.  I squeezed a big fat gob of anti-biotic cream in there Mom, not to worry. (more than I am already making you worry)

You know, of course, which finger I did this to don't you?

Yeah, that one. All day tomorrow I am going to be flipping the world the big white bird.

Sweet.