Monday, February 18, 2013

Carnage in Aisle 4

After sweeping up a floor full of freshly broken glass in my apartment the other night, I knew hardship was still on the horizon. I just couldn’t predict exactly when or how.

I pricked a finger on a microscopic shard of that glass while cleaning my kitchen yesterday. A bloodbath ensued and my least favorite towel was sacrificed for the cause, serving as a tourniquet until I could control the gushing gash with a band-aid.

When I took off a glove to pay for some housewares later in the day, the band-aid peeled off with it. As I reviewed the receipt on my way out, the piece of white paper began to turn red. Tourniquet #2.

I went into the drugstore across the street for more band-aids. A multi-page sale flyer was folded up on a shelf in the First Aid aisle. Tourniquet #3.

Although I can make a scene while waiting for a train that’s running 10 minutes behind schedule, when there’s a legitimately panic-worthy, but concealable, emergency/budding scandal on my hands (pun not originally intended), nobody else would be able to tell that something’s wrong.

I used all of my good hand, and one finger of my bad hand, to open a box of band-aids and replace the flyer with one of them – a delicate balancing act, designed to avoid getting anything on store property and having to face a “you bleed on it, you buy it” policy - before lining up to check out.

This whole time, the store’s pharmacy was closed. At 5:30 p.m. In the City That Seems to Get More Sleep Than I Do.

4 comments:

  1. I'm a real bleeder, so I empathize... even the smallest cuts will go on forever!

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  2. "Although I can make a scene while waiting for a train that’s running 10 minutes behind schedule, when there’s a legitimately panic-worthy [...] nobody else would be able to tell that something’s wrong."

    DUUUUUUUDE.

    This!

    So, so true. What's THAT about, amirite?

    Sorry you had this crazy torniquetty situation. Pah! Damn cuts!

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  3. I hope you were able to get all the glass out of the finger. Sometimes a fragment remains.

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  4. I'm forever cutting myself but my nerves are damaged so I often don't notice until I start wondering 'How come that page is turning red?' or 'Why is there red stuff on the cucumber I'm slicing?' We have boxes of band-aid in most rooms - usually except the room I actually need them in.

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