I have finally joined the ranks of true cooks. I cut myself. Badly.
I didn't exactly cut myself. It would be more accurate to say that I cut a piece of myself off. [All together now: Eeeeewwww!]. I was chopping garlic in the last stages of dinner preparation, using my most favorite of all exceedingly sharp knives when it happened. I was distracted, preoccupied, not thinking about what I was doing (all fitting synonyms for "asking for it"). Oooh I so vividly remember the sensation of the knife going through my fingertip. Lord almighty it felt alien and awful.
After I recovered from almost fainting, I saw that I had taken a little chunk or divot out of my left index finger. While nothing serious ( I don’t think), the bugger wouldn’t stop bleeding (I like to think of it as gushing) for hours. Hours! I briefly contemplated going to the hospital but couldn’t stomach the thought of pulling a nurse away from a gun shot or stroke victim to take a look at the booboo on my finger. That would just be embarrassing (this I know for a fact because I once had to go to Urgent Care to get a glass splinter removed from the index finger on my right hand. I am not so good with the index fingers, it would seem).
I took an ibuprofen (smart girl that I am... taking a blood thinner while desperately trying to stop bleeding), put the hand above my head, took pictures to distract myself, and proceeded to sulk and whine for a good long while.
Time has passed, my finger hurts less, but my divot is still impressive. I am done sulking. I have joined the scarred cooks club and am feeling slightly hardcore and just a little bit cooler for it. Cooks and chefs are covered in scars from cuts and burns. While I hope never to actually be covered in them, I am pretty excited to have my first war wound. I prefer to think of it as a war wound, as opposed to a memorial to my astounding clumsiness and stupidity. Incidentally, my plov turned out remarkably well. Could it have been the special seasoning I added? Eeeeewwww.
P.S. No one wanted to see my finger! I kept offering but people kept running away… why is that, I wonder? The head of my lab accused me of trying to make her vomit. Hee. If you don’t want to see it (wuss), don’t scroll down.