Ah, the weekend. A time for relaxation. A time for fun. A time for slicing your finger with a serrated knife. Wait, that wasn’t supposed to be part of the weekend. Saturday afternoon Steve baked some bread for Easter Sunday lunch. The first batch didn’t rise correctly and cooked flat so we figured it was fair game for us since the flatness didn’t affect the taste. We ran some errands late in the day, rented Memoirs of a Geisha, got Japanese (of course), and settled down with our sushi and wine to watch a movie. When dinner was over, I cleared the plates and offered to get Steve a slice of bread. Please note: I hadn’t even finished my first glass of wine so alcohol was not a factor in the incident. While cutting the bread, the knife slipped on the hard crust and went right into my left index finger. Of course it hurt like hell and when I’m in pain or am sick my first reaction is anger. I am not one of those whiney sick people. Steve’s starts yelling at me to apply pressure and put it under water. I yell at him to shut up. I told him it was really deep so he starts suggesting we go to the ER. I say there’s no way in hell I’m going to the ER on a Saturday night. He then suggests we go to Urgent Care. I then state (with several profanities) that I’m not ever stepping foot in our Urgent Care after the last two times I was there. Steve suggests I go next door and ask Julie (who owns two restaurants with her husband) to look at it since she’s probably dealt with kitchen cuts in the past. I love Julie because she’s so laid back. I go over there and she asked me if I could see bone or any fat hanging out. No on both accounts. Then she asks if I can bend the finger and feel the tip. Yes to both. She says she wouldn’t bother with the ER. I agree. I then go home, insist Steve bring me my unfinished glass of wine and make him a deal that if it doesn’t stop bleeding by the time the movie is over I’ll consider going to the ER. Two and a half hours later the bleeding is 98% stopped so I bandaged it up and went to bed. Weird thing is that it doesn’t really hurt. So much for a relaxing evening at home. I knew we should have gone out!