“Just the Tip is Enough”
My choice of fruit should have been an ominous warning sign.
Over the holidays, we were graciously gifted with a trio of new paring knives, and in my zeal for citrus, I snatched one up and began to carve.
By my second slice, I realized that I was using the wrong tool for the job. The blade was both curved and too short for a clean cut across the orange skin. Instead of a straight line, I was being forced to turn to the contours of the fruit.
Any intelligent person would have quickly swapped knives. It’s not like I didn’t have a better alternative – Chun Li was placidly staring down at me from the knife strip, solemnly scowling at my improper blade choice.
I was not an intelligent person.
Even worse, before this incident, I proudly lectured Kate on the importance of knife safety. I showed her my Totin Chip, taped into my beaten and battered copy of the Scouts Handbook. I have chided her for not checking her bubble an annoying amount of times.
Ignoring all the warning signs of improper knife etiquette, I continued my wobbly adventure, cutting the orange into uneven strips. Then, as I was working on the last quarter, the knife zigged when it should have zagged, and I felt it’s German steel effortlessly bite into the tip of my thumb.
I made that sound that I believe most people do when they hurt themselves in a way that they could have easily avoided. It is basically a sharp and quick intake of breath, sucked through your teeth, while still not really opening your mouth.
Then I yelled, “Oh shit shit shit shit shit”
This got Kate’s attention. I ran to the sink, and between bursts of blood, I was able to ascertain that I had sheared off the meaty tip of my thumb. Not enough to warrant stitches, but enough to make me think about what I had done.
I cut off the remaining flap of skin (I had stopped before finishing the deed, which made this part even worse), and then Kate played Florence Nightengale to my injured digit.
The thing about the tip of your thumb is that you don’t realize how much you use it until it’s gone. Typing, cooking, even putting your hands in your pockets can bring a jolt of pain to your system.
Even worse, I had to wear a chunky band-aid to work for several days, and as a 32-year old adult, it’s an immediate badge of “I Fucked Up” when you do something that requires a band-aid, and it wasn’t car repair or construction related.
They say time heals all thumbs. Who has two thumbs (tips and all) and a strong respect for his new paring knives?
This guy, that’s who.
Thumb Cuts – 1 out of 5