I was just about to start a post detailing my love for the knives that Tarzan gave me for my birthday; how they were just like the ones that the chefs use on the TV shows, how the big chopping knife is fairly heavy but cuts like a dream and really can slice through a soda can and then chop a tomato right afterwards; how I was being very careful and not putting them in the dishwasher even though I hate doing dishes by hand; I was even going to post pictures of each type of knife - the steak knives look really dangerous - and reassure everyone that I was holding my knives and fingers exactly the way they do on TV and I hadn't cut myself once.
And then, and then, and then.
I was chopping green onions - some people call them scallions - to go in the Asian Chicken Pasta Salad for dinner and Tarzan walked by on his cell phone talking to my father and I thought of a question to ask and I glanced ever so briefly, minutely, not even really away from the chopping action and the lovely knife came down the front of my index finger and sliced half my nail off, below the edge of my finger of course. There was bleeding, ATL was exclaiming how gross it was, Tarzan was in the other room trying to explain to his father-in-law how I had not actually cut my finger OFF and I was searching the pile of green looking for my nail so we didn't accidentally eat it.
It's actually fine and though it will take some time for that much nail to grow back, there's no lasting damage. (I decided, since ATL was STILL exclaiming how gross it was, to not share a picture of my finger with you.
Tarzan did spend some time apologizing for getting me such sharp instruments and while reassuring him that I did indeed want to keep them, in my head I was realizing what an exact, precise cut it was and how amazing this present really is.
This is me and there's always two sides to a situation.