You’ve seen those tiny warnings on prescription bottles: “may cause drowsiness, “do not operate machinery.” I never particularly thought of them as common sense warnings for life — “if drowsy, do not operate machinery.” Sigh. Momma always claimed I never had a lick of common sense and she’s probably shakin’ her head all the way up there in Heaven.
It started with two days of unseasonably warm weather in the 80’s. I got out there to do a little weeding in the vegetable garden as best I could with my crippled-up back. It took me two days to weed one and half rows, 28 feet in length, because every time I bent over, I couldn’t get back up. On one of those days, I ran some errands afterwards. I know I shouldn’t do things like this, but sometimes I do it anyway.
Around 4:00, I began to cook dinner for Poppie. Mind you, my fatigued muscles had not been restored by any sort of prolonged prone position or a nap. Not a good idea when you have chronic pain from an injury. So what does Ms. Fumble Fingers do? She dropped the manual, hand-crank can opener on the floor.
The handles might be fake stainless steel, for all I know, but the business end has some serious heft. I picked it up and set it on the counter to check later in case the fall warped the blade mechanism.
At dinner, I told Poppie I was so tired I felt a nap-before-bed coming on. I went home, looked at the messy kitchen and that can opener. I picked up the can opener to check the blade and it immediately plummeted to the floor, blade down. It landed on my left foot and almost cut off my pinkie toe.
I hope I don’t offend you with my ugly foot but I offer this photo as proof of my wounds.
I solicited sympathy by email and my sister, Miss Priss, who knows that things happen to me, had this to offer: “How big is your can opener that the blade would be LARGE enough to cut off your toe? That must be some kind of can opener!” Clearly, sympathy will NOT be forthcoming from the family so it would be helpful to me if some of you would also admit to doing stoopit stuff.