Two nights ago, Juan and I were preparing dinner when it finally happened.  He cut the tip of his left thumb off.  The next thing you know, everything was blood, ice, paper towels, and Puerto Rican expletives.  Thankfully, the knife missed the nail, but took out a chunk of flesh about half the size of a dime.  I can’t think of anything that can make you lose your appetite faster than seeing a pale thumb tip sitting among fresh chopped chives with a few fruit flies buzzing around.

Since Juan’s last tetanus shot was 15 years ago, we thought it wise to go to the hospital.  After two hours, we finally left with a sore arm and a bloody thumb.  Now that the shock has subsided, I cannot resist laughing at the hilarity of the situation, especially when I think about the piece of thumb sitting at the bottom of the trash can.

Unfortunately, however, I’ve been employed to help with wound redressing.

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The perpetrator is a red ceramic and stainless steel cutting knife that has, until of late, been Juan’s favorite kitchen utensil.

Now we’ve learned that it is important to pay attention when cutting food and refrain from chatting with persons at the cutting board.  And keep the fingers of your free hand curled!  Juan will have a tiny indent on his thumb to remind him of these all-important rules for the rest of his life.

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