I’m less of a man today…

I cut off the tip of my finger.
My pointer finger, if it matters.
I am now officially 9 3/4. I exaggerate a bit. I didn’t lose a full 1/4. But I have earned the right of embellishment.
And as you should know when talking to any man — every quarter inch matters.
It was a mandoline accident. I wasn’t using the safety guard. They invent things like safety guards for these very reasons.
There was the tip of my finger — holding on to a slice of zucchini for dear life.
Poor little fella.
I wonder if some businesses discriminate against us — the less than ten finger people.
I have always warned my wife to be careful using the mandoline. Then I go and politely cut a perfectly good finger off.
So, I am still unemployed. But I have kayaked recently and almost lost a finger.
Is this a weird parallel universe’s version of “success” I am experiencing?
My wife convinced me to go to a friend of ours last night.
My finger wouldn’t stop bleeding.
In a way, I wanted to experience what it would have been like in the old days to cauterize a wound. We could have put the cast-iron skillet in the oven for a few minutes at 500 degrees. Pull it out and put my finger on there for a hot sec. Voila!
Instead, our friend used a more modern method — silver nitrate applicators.

It cauterizes the wound. Instead of looking at it as a cut — now it’s a burn.
I have a decent pain threshold, so I can’t tell you if it would hurt you or not. I took it like a champ.
I have still never had stitches or a broken bone. I would knock on wood as I write that, but I have a bandaged finger.
