A few minutes ago, I was washing dishes.

Not, for the most part, a particularly hazardous activity. Except when a plate decides, without warning and without obvious cause to suddenly shatter into four pieces.

There was no impact; I didn’t drop it. The water wasn’t that hot; my hands were in it. I was simply holding it in one hand, scrubbing with the other, and then suddenly I was holding only one part of it, and I was bleeding. A lot.

They are, thankfully, all minor cuts. Like, “band-aid and ointment” minor. It could have been a lot worse. But there are several of them–thumb, wrist, forearm–and they were all pretty free-bleeders. (Especially the thumb. Thought that one would never stop.) And this was a dirty dish that had been sitting in the sink, so antibiotic ointment was not optional.

There are, of course, those would say that I probably shouldn’t be aggravating them by typing up this entry. Such people are clearly neither authors nor bloggers.

So, yeah, it hurts–again, the thumb especially–but I’ll be fine. It was certainly rather a bracing experience, though.