Nick of Time

Like clockwork. 

Usually it's a nick. Sometimes a not so great one. 

This one was more of a gouge. 

Normally, I shower and shave exactly the same every time. 

For washing, it's the left arm first, then the torso, onto the right side. Head. Back. Legs - then the twig and berries and dark side of the moon. 

Shaving - I suppose you don't need the details, but on Sunday for g-d knows what reason, I deviated. Slightly. But the first change, I took a chunk of my head. 

It hurt immediately. It bled immediately. Usually it doesn't. But this was like an artery. 

After finishing showering, I put a towel on my head and used the other to dry the rest of me. That head towel has to be ruined. There isn't enough oxy-clean to get out those stains. Carrie White had a similar towel sitch after her gym class too. 

FUCK - echoed off the shower and bathroom walls. Except it was early-ish Sunday morning and no one was in the locker room. Trying to get dressed was tricksy. Tying to get shirts over my head without dousing them in A negative was difficult at best. I literally thought I was still sweating when I bent over to put on shoes. Nope. Blood just running down my face. 

Classy!

Four paper towels later, I finally had to get out of there to to meet my cousin for b'fast. As you'd expect, I was late. 

This was just s small sampling of more paper towels and napkins I went though on the drive. More in the restaurant. David told me to stop blotting and let it clot. But I couldn't. I know blood was smeared oh my head, I just couldn't see it. I had to wash my hands twice because they had blood all over them, either from me touching it directly or it leaking through the paper as I applied pressure. 

710 got me peroxided and bacitracined up when I got home. But I'd find later, my pillow had more than small dots of red all over it. 

Dith tried to talk me into an electric head razor months and go and I ignored her. I have never had any luck with them for my face. They have always done shitty jobs. Maybe it's my beard. Maybe it's my face. But it just might be the razor(s). 

I'm guessing as this heals, I'll put all thoughts of it out of my head until the next time. 

It's "funny" but on our Sunday call, I must have turned my head a certain way because Jon goes, "did you cut your head again???".  Extra points to him for paying attention to detail. 

No one at work has said a word, and you know they probably want to. I'm not giving up on what a dipshit I am without prompting. 

Song by: Bonnie Raitt