Parallax

Last night, right before bed, I was washing a few dishes and managed to slice my finger open. I will spare you the details of how the cut happened, because while it wasn't too bad to have actually happen, I wouldn't want to read about it, so you shouldn't have to either. Actually, I find that kind of funny; the perspective difference is weird between hurting yourself, which is often no big deal, and hearing about someone else get hurt, which is often sympathetically painful. I mean, this hurt a bit, I put pressure on it, then gauze and taped it up and went to bed. But the idea of injury leaves the phantom sensation of pain every time it is contemplated, like re-opening the wound. Which, actually, I did a little this morning when changing the dressing, but no matter.

The major practical downside is that my typing is rather poor today because my hand is taped up. Also I note our office has 5 mini-medkits, none of which contain tape. That's not exactly ideal...