I was cutting open a box of syringe tips for my Tuejeo pens and stabbed my finger with a very sharp Swiss Army knife. At least, I think that is what it was! It immediately started bleeding. I shouted and walked from the room, after tossing the knife away, with a puddle of blood forming in the palm of my hand. I walked past The Craftsman, who was in the recliner watching tv, and he asked what had happened. I sort of showed him and said I cut myself, but I admit, I was a bit focused on not dripping on the carpet! Bear got up from where he was watching a video on the computer, turned on the kitchen light for me, then turned on the water in the sink. I washed the blood off my hands (mostly--felt like Lady Macbeth), it kept welling up all over the place. It splattered and was actually kind of cool looking in a macabre sort of way. I managed to snag a paper towel and got it around my finger. Bear soon arrived with a band aid and Nerosporin and as he got the sterile strip around my finger, I started to feel faint. Bear laughed and then was a bit annoyed, but he led me to the living room, where I sat down in the chair next to The Craftsman's and dropped into a dark zone for a few minutes. Completely flabbergasted the kid. He decided I wasn't a good patient. I decided he was an AWESOME medic.
I was also truly impressed I managed to get blood on my jean skirt and none at all on the path to the kitchen from the bedroom, nor on my white tank top.