The other night I jabbed myself with one of the dullest kitchen knives we have. We were in the last phases of getting dinner on the table so I squeezed it with a paper towel for a minute and then threw on a bandage. Later I noticed this.
Does anyone else ever think about crime shows when you throw a bloody paper towel into the garbage? If something terrible happened and the detective team had to come search the house and they’d hold up the bloody paper towel with their tweezers and gloved hands and use it as proof that something terrible happened. Even though really you just cut your finger in the kitchen.
Hm. I think about that.
What are bandages made out of these days? Before I went to bed I decided I’d better do a little proper first aid on my wound and it took me a couple of minutes to scrape that thing off my finger. There was a brief moment of panic when I thought it might be bonded to me forever.
One day when I was working as an intern in D.C., I got in the elevator holding my phone to check the time and I realized I was still getting service in the elevator just as the guy next to me obviously lost his phone call as the doors closed. I thought to myself: if something terrible happens, I will be the only one who can call the police. Like if the whole buidling goes on lockdown because of a disaster and all the phones are out but they don't know about me here in this elevator with service…
I think about these things.
I feel guilty every time I buy bleach — like I'm going to try to cover up some horrible crime with it. I get the same feeling when I buy duct tape. I'm glad I'm not the only neurotic one.
I don't think about those things. Now I'm worried that I should.
How clever of you to bleed so prettily.