I finally did it

At my new job I keep files. I like to organize my files, unlike most of the guys in the office who just use ginormous binder clips to hold all the papers together. Not sure what it is about binder clips, but they love them here. I'm more of a two hole punch and metal file organizer type of gal. So last week I brought a box of metal file clips into the office, much to the chagrin of my colleague whose exact words were, "you're mutilating files with those bloody things - I can't stand them". So on Friday much like waving a red flag in front of a bull I reached into my drawer to taunt him with one. Serves me right, I guess. In my haste to get one out of the box I somehow sliced my finger on a sharp edge. As soon as I looked at it I knew it wasn't a regular cut. I cook a lot, I use knives a lot and I've cut myself more times that I can remember. Usually Don comes running in with a towel, Neosporin, and a Band Aid, and all is well. This one was pretty deep so my boss told me go across the street to the mall and have the medical center take a look. Did I mention that every mall usually has a medical center inside? I told the receptionist what had happened, she asked for my medicare card, I told her I was paying cash. I asked her how long it would be, and she stated, "Well, since you're paying cash, you're next". I was gobsmacked (my new very favorite word). I've never been triaged according to my financial status. So, in less time than it took to find a magazine I was whisked back, past the coughing children and their parents, all shooting daggers my way. I got two shots to numb, and I'm sure they would have done the trick, had the doctor waited long enough. I felt the first stitch and it hurt, bad. The only way I can explain it is like having dental work, and you think you're numb then suddenly you realize you're not. She offered to give me another shot, but since she only had one more stitch to go I told her to finish. I have to return on Tuesday for a checkup; I think the stitches stay in a week. If you're wondering why such a detailed post about two little stitches, well, why not. And I guess now I can say that I've injured myself to the point of requiring stitches. Although, at 41 I'd have thought there would be more exciting things on my Bucket List.