Read on Twitter
I have good news and less-good news.
The good news is: I don’t need stitches...
The less-good news happened in the kitchen.
(No brownie jokes please)
(No brownie jokes please)
I was putting a plate on the counter, and the darn thing must have gotten confused...
It thought it was on its way to a slip & slide.
I watched in horror as it leapt from my hands.
Did I scream? I didn’t NOT.
The kitchen floor though...
And that’s when I first noticed - the blood.
My pinky! My sweet little pinky! How will ever drink tea like a fancy person again??
So I wrapped it, elevated it above my head, and sat down to mope.
And then I noticed my leg.
How though? My pinky and my leg?
Ok plate.
I said “OK plate.”
Do we think the plate was satisfied with 2 wounds?
I’ll tell you. The plate was not.
I could almost hear the plate’s voice echoing in my head:
Oh what’s that on my other hand? On my sweet little ring finger? Another wound?
Please count with me folks.
I wish I could trust my kitchen.
But I maybe, I just wish I could trust MYSELF in the kitchen.
cc: baby @GeneaMCharp
cc: baby @GeneaMCharp
What’s that you ask? Do I forgive my plate?
I do. I do. But that didn’t stop me from sending his plate-butt to the trash. Which is where he belongs.
Bloodily yours,
Erin
Erin
FYI: I have not been drinking. I just love gifs.
P.S. truly...
