MMR: My inability to use tools

Today's rant is dedicated to my inability to use tools without injuring myself. Yesterday reinforced my inability to properly use tools, without injury or frustration. I'm a moron when it comes to simple tasks around the house. Sometimes, it's a mix of curiosity and stupidity, like when I hooked up the power supply from my model train set to my braces. Yes, you can feel electric current moving through you teeth and gums. That was in middle school and would have been somewhat excusable if it wasn't part of a pattern. Sadly, yesterday was just stupidity.

I accidentally pierced myself with a spring. I was working on the back gate. The latch recently broke and I needed to replace the spring that holds the latch shut. I pulled the new spring taught...just need to get it a bit closer...a bit closer and snap. Yeowww!!! I look at my finger and holy shit, one end of the spring has gone through my finger near the nail and cuticle and out through the tip. At first, I'm not sure that I really did that. Look away. Look back at finger. Dumbass, you did do it!! My finger is throbbing and I'm a bit queasy and more than a bit irritated with myself. I'm going to go inside to remove the spring because if I pass out inside it's more likely that someone, namely Pam, will notice. Must get inside. Whoa, not so fast -- to add insult to injury, I have to unhook the other part of the spring that was securely fastened to the gate.

get inside, ask Pam to "not let the dog out because the back gate is open." Don't reinforce that you're a moron and don't mention the spring. My finger is still throbbing. I then tell Pam that I also have a "spring in my finger." I love my wife. She walks into the kitchen and looks at my finger says "yes, you do." She goes to get some band aids, Neosporin, and I have to believe she looked for some, Anti Idiot cream for me. I decide to try and work the spring out backwards -- it's just a deeper version of what I do with fishing hooks. Did I mention I can't handle tools? The spring works out cleanly. The throbbing was the blood building up in my finger tip. Blood shot from both the entrance and exit wound. It was the finger puppet version of the Zapruder film. How I've survived to this point in my life is beyond me. Darwin weeps.

As I'm cleaning out my finger, as best as I can, not wanting to pass out, I start to look at the kitchen floor and the amount of mud that had been tracked inside. I had brought in a lot of mud and I'm now amazed at how stupid I can be. It gets better, because as I looked at the floor, my finger came out of the sink and I had now splattered blood on the counter and sink. About a minute later, my finger clots up. Pam cleans up the floor after she gave me a glass of water and some Advil. I love my wife. I wish she wasn't married to a moron.