Happenings.

That night, I remembered the knife. I had left it in my laundry, so I found it and studied it. It had two knobs at the beginning of the blade that pushed the knife up when you pressed on them, and the blade remained locked in place until you pushed down on part of the side. And it was sharp. Very sharp.

I dropped it, and instinctively tried to catch it, earning me a large gash on the edge of my hand. I went and grabbed some bandages and duct tape, and somehow managed to fix the it up. Medicine and doctor stuff, it really isn't my thing. But I hadn't cut anything major, and I just ended up keeping the duct tape on the side of my hand to keep it from reopening, and ignoring the pain.

He laughed at me for it.

I didn't do that again. For a couple of weeks at least.

It's hard not to play with knives, when you have them, and I guess I'm just clumsy. But that's just how it is.