After declaring my newly painted bedroom somewhat “finished” (because I know now that finished is a relative term) I decided to eat lunch/dinner. It became clear that no one was planning on cooking, and after painting for five hours, I sure as hell was not cooking, so I went a-scavenging…. in the fridge…. this isn’t the woods y’all. I think I’ve had pasta at least 60 times in the last two months, so I decided on a sandwich. And because I was too lazy to make myself a sandwich, I chose the turkey sandwich in foil that my dad had neglected to take to work today (and by work I mean driving around in his truck while talking illegally on the phone).
I knew that this sandwich was going to have some unacceptable ingredients on it, so I went in to do surgery. While I took off the tomato slices and swiss cheese I was like “Wow, this tomato juice is so vibrant.” It was only when I closed the sandwich back up did I notice the really vibrant tomato juice on the TOP of the bread. I was like “Waittttt a minute….” knowing I hadn’t contaminated that part of the bread with the tomato. And then…. I see my finger, which is covered in blood.
At this point I was really confused because at no point today had I touched a knife. There was blood all over the foil and the sandwich. And my finger. Which didn’t hurt until I rinsed it off, which did a whole lot of good because it immediately filled back up with blood. So I ask if my mom has a band-aid at her desk (which is next to the kitchen) and she did, but told me it had to stop bleeding first. I was hungry, (and I just gave blood and then had blood drawn for lab tests…. which said I was anemic.. so I can’t really afford to lose any more blood) so I just slapped it on assuming the pressure would close the mysterious slice in the pad of my finger.
I can only assume that I sliced my finger open while opening a can of cat food prior to pilfering the sandwich- my mom’s conclusion. But even better, she says “Oh you can’t eat that, it has horseradish on it.” Horseradish is a dealbreaker. What I thought was mayo on both sides of the meat was dirty, rotten, evil horseradish.
My mom says, “Just wrap it back up, it’s fine, he won’t even notice.”
“Ma, it is covered in blood.”
“So just rip those parts off. It’s fine.”
“Well, I mean I am O-……”
I ended up throwing out the contaminated parts and managed to salvage half of a sandwich. My dad knows what happened, he’ll probably eat it anyway. I was even nice enough to change the aluminum foil as that had blood on it too.
So this is the end result:
Look, it's the Japanese flag.
Which all in all, is not as bad as that time I sliced off a full corner of my thumb before a party with a mandolin and never found…. that… little piece. It’s not my fault though, I was too busy running around my house like a chicken with it’s head cut off screaming in pain and fear of bleeding to death while my mom laughed hysterically. Nothing is funnier to her than someone injured. She is worthless in those situations. So the little piece… was an afterthought. A way-after thought.
You should thank me for this because typing with that band-aid is super annoying.
