Or, "BEWARE THE RECYCLABLES!"
Warning to squeamish people: Squeams ahead.
Last night, I was being Miss Good Do-Bee, washing out the recyclable cans before I took them down to the bin, when I reached the dishcloth into a Progresso soup can (Yes, Progresso, I BLAME YOU! It's all your fault!) and cut the holy living shit out of my hand. The big knuckle on my right hand, to be specific.
And I just kind of looked down at it, and it had not yet started to bleed, but I could tell that the cut was pretty deep, and I swear, the first thing I thought of was that old Julia Child skit on SNL. You know, the one where one of the guys (I think it was Dan Akroyd) was playing Julia Child, and she was, like, de-boning a turkey or something, and she cut the shit out of herself? And Julia/Dan's voice ran through my head last night as I looked down at the cut - "Ohhhhh, you've gone and done it this time! You've cut the dickens out of yourself!"
And the cut still wasn't bleeding much, and I was thinking, "I reaallllly don't want to have to go to the emergency room." Because if I had ended up at the emergency room last night, I would quite possibly still be there. So I decided to try and see how deep the cut was, and to see if any tendons or bones or anything were visible, so I kind of ..... spread the cut apart a little.
And the blood, it was spectacular. Rivers of blood flowing out of my knuckle and into the dishwater. And all I could think was, "well, if I have to go get stitches, I won't be able to get this hand wet for a while, so I guess I better finish up washing these cans." Because I am an idiot. So I'm trying to finish the last few cans, and the blood it is flowing all through the water, and it looked like Shark Week on TBS in my kitchen sink.
Cans washed (with BLOOD!), I grabbed a kitchen towel, wrapped it around my hand, and headed for the bathroom for some bandages. And here is one of the few things that suck about living alone: It is hard as hell to open up a box of bandages when one of your hands is bleeding like a stuck pig. Seriously, I had to press the towel-wrapped knuckle up against my flippin' CHIN to keep applying pressure and bring the box of bandages up with my other hand in order to use both hands to get the box open. Suck!
Finally, bandages were opened, adhesive tape was found (because adhesive bandages WILL NOT STICK to me. Seriously. It's like my lame superpower or something: No bandage will adhere to my skin. I have to take adhesive tape and, like, wrap it around and around the bandage and any nearby skin to have any hope of the bandage staying on for more than five minutes or so before it gives up and falls off. Duct tape actually works really well, but it looks a little white-trashy for my tastes.
ANYHOW, I washed off more blood, and took another look at the cut, and while it was still bleeding like holy hell and probably could have used a couple of stitches, I threw some gauze on it and covered it with a bandage and covered the bandage and my hand with adhesive tape and called it a day. And this morning, while that knuckle is really sore, the cut is not gaping open and apparently will heal, so I guess I'll live. The end.
And the moral of the story? Throw those fucking Progresso soup cans in the garbage. Because they will gut you like a fish. Oh, and as a side note? Do not ever, ever, let your pets eat directly out of cans. I had read that somewhere once before, and now I totally understand.