The $14 can opener

After Michael and I parted ways, one of the things I was missing was a can opener, so I strolled over to the local London Drugs to pick one up. I was quite pissed off that the only one I could find was priced at $14. Why would a can opener cost $14? Um, is it going to open the soup and then cook it for me? But, valuing the cost of walking back home, hopping in my car and driving somewhere else for the sake of a goddamn can opener I decided I would just buy the thing and appreciate its aesthetic qualities and fine craftsmanship every time I opened a can of tuna. Until today. Today it broke. I swear, I've had the thing less than seven months. I've probably used it less than twenty times. The thing was (and with me there is always a "thing" and the "thing" represents the point where I should just concede defeat but I don't, cause I'm a friggin' champion) when it broke the can was sort of half opened. You know, it was in that state where you can kind of force it open with a fork and squish the contents out? I had a really good salad going: spring mix, pan fried yams, avocados and I really wanted to add this tuna. So I attempt to ratchet it open with a fork. But the fork kind of slides around and doesn't do the job. What does the job? Come on, what is the best way to open a jagged tin can? With your fingers! Yay! Can everyone just sense the train barreling down the tracks to become Duder's latest train wreck? I'm trying to force/bend this lid with my thumb and then - slip! - it slices the end of my left thumb open. The gush of blood was amazingly quick. I must have a healthy, strong heart. Yep. In other news, I don't do well with blood. So it's pretty much streaming off my thumb and splattering on my stove, but hey! the lid's open! In the dim, misfiring synapses of my addled brain I decide that a healthy lunch is really a priority at this point. I continue to scrape the tuna into my salad (being careful not to get blood in said salad), and get a nice little collection of hemoglobin in the empty tuna can. Awesome. It's rather evident that I'm in shock. I realize that I might want to call someone since I'm feeling rather light headed and I understand that it's not normal to continue on with food preparation when you're bleeding quite nicely. I pick up my (new! shiny!) cell phone and think, "who in the hell am I going to call?". I contemplate calling B: he doesn't have a car. I think of calling my dad since he has some first aid experience. I then realize that I would ultimately end up upsetting whoever it was that was the unlucky recipient of my call, and that I really need to better assess the situation. Into the bathroom I go. I looked in the mirror and was quite surprised to see I looked rather well rested and, given that I had run 8k earlier in the evening, my hair wasn't too messy. I said, "get it together". I think I said it like three times as some kind of mantra. Then I washed my hand and wrapped a clean washcloth around it. In and around this time JupiterGirl called me for a pre-arranged chat. I was like, "yeah, I'm bleeding pretty good. Can I have ten minutes?" and she's like "um, yeah. Can you see bone?". No bone. Score! I get it cleaned up, and before the blood starts again I see it's not too bad, doesn't need stitches. Have I mentioned I don't do well with blood? I sat on the bathtub and put my head between my legs for a little bit. Called JupiterGirl back, poured a glass of wine and thoroughly bloodied that washcloth.
The really retarded bit? I kept thinking "I really need to do the dishes and clean the counter tops and stove". The second glass of wine resulted in a different thought process "no one is coming over for a while; Polysporin will work miracles. The blood spatters can wait until Friday or Saturday". Ew.
So yeah. Feeling a bit nauseous. Kind of wished I had someone to take care of the situation this evening, and yet I managed just fine. And made my lunch to boot. Had a great conversation with JupiterGirl. I am sorely missing my partner in crime. I miss our conversations and her lack of pandering to my bullshit. It's exhilarating and scary how our lives just march on and diverge and go on tangents and we end up in places that we didn't anticipate.
But it's good. She's in a good place. With the exception of a little blood loss, I'm in a good place. I just need to find another can opener.