Last week I spent my days in a training class for work, so my desk looked like it projectile voimted paper, post-it notes, and notepads. The volcanic eruption required a few minutes of my attention this morning to get things back to “normal” state for me; which is really only a version of semi-chaotic. In my attempt to clean/organize all these notes I went to grab a pile of paper and sure enough, I incurred a physical injury. PAPERCUT.
Commence arterial bleeding! I NEED A NURSE STAT! I quickly called the red cross to make sure they had a hefty supply of my blood type available. My forehead and hands were getting all clamy as I performed delicate surgery to cover the laceration and put pressure on the blood flow. No?
Ok, I exaggerate a little. Listen Lady, I was able to parse my hand back together with a kleenix and some scotch tape, but it’s more the actual thought of the papercut that drives me insane. I hate papercuts; despise them. I shutter just thinking about them and the way they have of slicing through delicate skin. It makes my skin crawl and I just want to assume the fetal position in a corner.
I react like a whacko on speed when I think about them. Imagine if you will, someone tells you that you have a spider crawling on your back and you proceed to flip out, start running around, and try to turn your body in a complete 360 degree fashion so that your flailing arms can shoosh this being away? Yea. That’s me. Only this occurs when I get a papercut. I could care less if a spider crawled on me.
And then there was that one time at band camp….
No, there really was that one time I was watching the movie Jackass and the guy VOLUNTARILY sat there while he received multiple papercuts between his fingers and toes. BETWEEN HIS TOES. I don’t think you are understanding the complexityof my reaction to this scene. I ran out of the movie theater. RAN. Like I was Usain Bolt vying for a world record ran. I dropped my ridiculously priced popcorn and made a beeline for the car where I continued to have the hibee-jibee’s for the next 5 years just thinking of this scene.
Every time I get a papercut now, I return to that nightmarish scene in the movie theater and have convulsions while I repair my wound.