I haven’t cooked real food in quite some time. Which is totally fine. My day of eating currently consists of egg whites, spinach and hot sauce every morning. A baked potato for lunch. A pretzel snack with an organic rock star. (yes those exist.) And a salad with 1/4th of The Complete Cookie to top off my appropriate protein intake.
In attempt to make some bean and cheese burritos last night, I had a mishap.
Of course you did.
It wasn’t my fault. It was.
The sharp edge of the lid from the pinto beans can tried to kill me. It did not.
I started to peel back the lid with the helper attached to the lid. The helper? Yeah, that
thing that aids in pulling the lid of the tin can off. I don’t know what the name of it is; but it’s lethal. Oh geez.
An ordinary tin lid, you pull out the can opener (manual or electric) and you go to town! Easy and breezy! No deaths incurred. You can move on with your day. You know that the lid is off and you take great care as to not cut yourself.
But with these sneaky lids that have helpers?! Oh no. Not so simple. Not so child’s play.
So, back to my story, I pull back the helper tab, pull it up, then start to slowly yank the lid off it’s home. Now, the lid is coming off weird. Normally it just pops up no problem. Oh no. Not this time It sort of bent itself, which made it awkward to pull off. I’m trying to be careful. Wait for it…
Then it happens. It attacks my fingertip.
Initially, it looks like nothing has happened. No visible cut. No blood. No pain. Nothing.
Now, I have an extremely high tolerance for pain. I imagine years of stuffing down emotions have had a stake in that. Kidding.
So I return to getting dinner ready. Dumping the beans into a pan so they can begin heating up and I start to mash the legumes and then….
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there’s just… blood… everywhere!
I’m like, “what the…”
I’m suddenly in a horror film and my finger -not only – won’t top bleeding; but, it’s like I’ve been gouged by a grizzly bear. I had to wonder if I lost more than a pint of blood! You didn’t bleed that much. I did. You weren’t there. It was horrifying. Doubtfully horrifying.
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No. Absolutely. Deathly. Horrifying.
Killer food much?
And it wouldn’t stop gushing for over 45 minutes. I’m screaming at my boo boo. “Clot, bish, clot!” Blood. Was. Everywhere.
In the end, I ate my bloody burrito and this morning my owie is still hurting.
I’d like to say I overreacted; but, I so didn’t. You did.
Oh really? Explain that to the crime scene in my kitchen.
It’s throbbing today and now my eyebrow is twitching too. Which has zero to do with the investigation as to why there is blood inside the refrigerator; but my brow bone protectors are having a conniption fit nonetheless.
Moral of the story?
Don’t eat your vegetables.
I have been doing yoga poses. There she goes. Massaging my tummy. Stop it. There are actual knots! Laying around like some slovenly contortionist. Mental image now, thanks. Trust me it does NOT look pretty. Mind’s eye – burned. Sitting in “child’s pose” with my hind quarters in the air… in the hopes those air bubbles work their way to the top.. Ha! Do they?
ONE freaking cookie! IT wasn’t until day two of eating this thing that I read the serving size is only 1/2 a cookie. *enter frustration. Had I known that, I wouldn’t have eaten– Ha! You ate a whole one. Two days in a row! *insert roaring laughter here
with liquid (doesn’t matter what kind of liquid) it will expand like those tiny expanding toys that expand when you dunk them into a bowl of water and they grow to the size of your hand. Or larger. But instead of in a bowl of water it happens inside your body. And it sucks. Because, yup! You guessed it, you can’t congregate by the john.
