Can I call off sick with a stab wound if I don't actually go to the doctor?

STAB WOUND??? you might ask, if you were actually paying attention and were a decent, caring sort of a person. What do you mean, STAB WOUND?

Well, you see, in an act of poetic justice, I nearly eviscerated myself with an Exacto knife a little bit ago.

I've been on my last nerve anyway after a stress-filled weekend of school, housework and endless errand-running, and as of sevenish this evening I hadn't even begun working on the design-class homework project I'd intended to get done over the weekend. It was a multi-step project and the part I really needed to finish this weekend would have been best done on tabletop, if one were able to find a clean stretch of tabletop anywhere in this trash heap of an apartment, which, as it turned out, one were not.

So I sat me down on the couch with my oversized marker pad and my markers and rulers and stencils and tracing paper and art board and I got to work creating a "logo" to represent the concept of motion. I'll spare you the details but somewhere in the process of creating this logo I needed to make use of the Exacto knife, which I then promptly lost track of in the confusion of papers and supplies and miscellaneous all over my lap and the couch.

Now for a short digression to explain where the poetic justice comes in: Saturday night, right after partaking of some particularly good lovin', the Prince ventured into the dark living room on his way to the kitchen for something to drink, and damn near killed himself tripping over some junk in the dark and falling face-first onto the vacuum cleaner. Ok, yeah, the house IS pretty messy and it probably could have happened to any one of us, but the Prince does have a particular knack for falling over anything and nothing... he is truly a spectacularly uncoordinated individual.

So tonight, I'm sitting on the couch engrossed in my little project when from the kitchen I hear a bang and a crash and an OWW! GODDAMMIT!!!! followed by a string of swearwords that would make a mynah bird blush. And I was just sitting there shaking my head and thinking that I am married to the clumsiest individual in the ENTIRE world, and then I leaned forward to get up and stabbed myself in the belly with the Exacto knife.

My first thought (well, right after OW!) was, "FUCK! I do NOT want to go spend the last few hours of my weekend in the fucking emergency room!" And my second thought, when I felt it dripping onto my foot was, "GODDAMN that's a lot of blood!" And my third thought was "Well, if I gotta go to the emergency room I better go take a shower because I stink and there's no way I'm letting some doctor poke and prod my stab wound when I haven't showered." So there's me in the shower holding an alcohol-soaked washcloth over a bleeding abdominal stab wound with one hand and soaping up my crotch and armpits with the other; and the Prince is outside sleeping in his chair on the patio and doesn't even know I've come within inches of committing hari kari; and one of the disgusting cats is gleefully licking my blood off the bathroom floor; and as the flow of blood from my side finally begins to slow up, all I can think is "I wonder if I can parlay all this into a day off work if I don't actually go to the doctor?"

Probably not... I mean, who is going to believe I've got an injury bad enough to stay home from work if I don't even go to the ER? Maybe I'll just make up some other, less embarrassing excuse to stay home... like explosive diarrhea or something.

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Last Five
Crappy job crap, weird neighbor, and someone whose baby I apparently want to have - 2006-05-08
Live from the dump - 2006-04-09
Kind of like a muzzle for your brain - 2006-03-29
...and then she fell ass-first into my cereal bowl - 2006-03-28
Playing catch-up - 2006-03-27

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