Anyway you slice it.

Well…I did it. My greatest kitchen fear has come true. My first real calamity.

It all started with two innocent pounds of butter. A request from the Chef to cut them into 1 ounce cubes for the class to use during our culinary lab. All was smooth for the first pound….the knife slippery with butter, my hand presses down on the knife and UNDERNEATH the blade. I have sliced open my palm. At 7:20am. I almost faint and throw-up. I am sent to the hospital for stitches.
I am fairly low-impact. I don’t like pain, I am petrified, I know stitches hurt. I avoid pain at almost all costs, I only had my ears pierced last year. The doctor roots around with a needle in my open wound. I almost punched him, or at least felt the urge…I also felt the urge to tell him that I certainly couldn’t have a baby if this needle was too much for me. He didn’t find that as funny as I did. Nervousness makes me awkward. He stitched me up and told me to clean my own wound and bandage it up. Maybe he was getting me back for being so chatty.
The next few days shouldn’t be so bad. It’s a good thing one-handed foods are among my favourite.

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