The potato peeler incident

To say last week was just not my week would be an understatement. I don't know what cosmic forces aligned, but they were not on my side. I had been feeling slightly under the weather during the first half of the week, which was manageable, and then BAM! I woke up on Thursday morning with a heavy dose of the stomach flu...a fate I wouldn't wish upon anyone. I stayed home from work on Thursday to recover, which actually took until about 12:45 pm on Friday afternoon...the exact time of the potato peeler incident.

We were having my cousin and her boyfriend over for dinner on Friday night, and I was very excited to make gnocchi. Gnocchi is like perfection wrapped up in deliciousness and covered with awesome. And it is my specialty. I haven't had the opportunity to make it since I lived in Kentucky and had a larger kitchen, and I have been craving it like crazy in the past few months...so, logically, all signs were pointing to making gnocchi for dinner. I dragged my tired, nauseated self into the grocery store and got all the fixings and was home by noon to start the long process. And to jazz myself up for the afternoon, I even put on some Beatles CDs to have as background music to my cooking. Life was good.

Step 1: Peel potatoes.

Step 2: Boil potatoes for 45 minutes.

Did I make it to Step 2?? No folks, I certainly did not. On the second potato, I managed to peel off the tip of my pointer finger on my right hand. And when I say "peel off" I mean PEEL OFF. And we're going to ignore the part about the potato peeler having the "safety cover" to prevent accidents such as this, because that is just embarrassing.

You know how sometimes when you hurt yourself it takes a minute for reality to sink in and for you to feel pain? Yeah, that didn't happen here. It was instant pain, and instant blood. Lots of blood. I couldn't even see the actual injury because of the amount of blood. I tried to run it under cold water, decided that was a terrible idea, and immediately wrapped it up in a paper towel, applied pressure, and elevated it above my head to try to reduce the blood flow.

For those of you who don't know...I don't do well with blood. I'm the girl who passes out at the doctor's office when I have my blood drawn. Add to that the remnants of a stomach flu and a totally empty stomach...I was a mess. My fingertip soaked through countless paper towels, and I finally got the bleeding to stay within one paper towel for a few hours...but if I stopped the pressure for even a split-second, it instantly bled through and I needed a new bandage.

MISERABLE.

It kept bleeding for the next 4 hours, until Clint got home from work and could help me bandage it up properly. I refused to go to the doctor because it's not like they could put stiches on a peeled fingertip...they'd probably just bandage it tightly, send me home, and charge me $1,000. That sounded like even less of a good time than sitting on my couch with a bleeding finger, trying not to vomit or pass out. Nerves of steel, that's me.

Needless to say, we did not have gnocchi for dinner that night. And Clint had to do most of the cooking. But on the bright side, my fingertip is now angular instead of rounded. How many people can say THAT?