I got adventurous this morning and tried to cook some eggs, with a pre-made “scramble” mix of mostly frozen veggies.
In the ten minutes or so I was in the kitchen for, I managed to do the following:
*Spill half a mug of coffee onto the newspaper
*Start to burn the vegetables (note: clean up after cooking, not during)
*Lightly burn my hand (note: The handle of the cast-iron skillet will in fact get hot)
*Set off the smoke detector
*Drop a raw egg on the floor
*Pinch my finger in the folding step-stool (note: everyone in my house is under 5’8, why the hell is the smoke detector up so high?)
*Step in raw egg.
*Burn my hand less-lightly (note: if you leave the previously-hot skillet on a hot burner, it will not magically cool off)
*Drop cast-iron skillet full of vegetables and eggs on the floor
*Burn my toe.
*Scare my dog so badly by screaming obscenities, she’s still hiding from me two hours later.
At least my mother will be pleasantly surprised that I mopped the kitchen floor for her this morning.
But I think I’m going to walk up to Taco Bell for lunch today; I need to cross four busy lanes of traffic to get there, but I’m pretty sure it’s safer.
Alive and well, thanks. I had to run up to the mall anyway, so figured I’d grab lunch there (there’s something so delectably horrid about Taco Bell, IMO). No further injuries were sustained, and by, uh, borrowing some of my parents’ leftover chicken from last night, I’ve regained my dog’s trust.
Wanna see the scar on my arm from tripping over my own two legs?
Let’s also talk about the concussion I gave myself on Saturday (dizzy, couldn’t walk straight afterwards, sleepy, had to lie down for a while) and the quarter-sized bruise on the back of my leg.
Also, how I’ve apparently managed to sprain my foot without noticing.
Hang in there, NinjaChick. You may end up in a full body cast someday but you’ve got a really, really cool username, and that’s what counts.
Hah! I’ll keep that in mind next time I do something so spectacular it draws blood. “Welp, I’m about to pass out because oh god blood, but I’ve got an awesome username online!”
Believe it or not I’m fairly coordinated when not doing cooking things. I’m not the picture of perfect grace or anything, but I (usually) can go about my life without serious injury. But put me in the kitchen and Something Happens; the best I can figure, I mentally de-age to the age of six or so.
Backstory: my ex-boyfriend (still friends) had taken a job selling Cutco knives. I lived in a college dorm at the time with no kitchen, so I had no need for a big collection of kitchen knives, but I bought a butter knife from him. It was actually a nice knife- had a sharp edge.
Moral of story: never buy knives from your ex, even if you’re still on good terms.
I moved into an on-campus apartment with a kitchen, and used the aforementioned knife to cut open a plastic package. I miscalculated, and ended up badly cutting my left middle finger (I still have a scar, more than 10 years after). It bled a lot, so much that I was worried that I would bleed to death. Then I started really hoping that my atheist friends were right about there not being an afterlife, 'cause I really don’t want to spend eternity explaining how I managed to kill myself with a butter knife…
As for me being a danger; I’m not normally klutzy (tell that to your colon) but I was in my chemistry lab and I managed to firstly, break the end of a distillation apparatus (I didn’t notice it in the tube and it fell out and broke). And then I knocked over a baby measuring cylinder. And told my partner that I would do the calculations; could he please clean up?