Harley knocked over a mirror last night. It was a $10 Wal-Mart mirror, so it wasn’t a big deal. I cracked open my new box of generic trash bags1 and collected the glass shards.
When I moved to throw out the trash bag, I felt a sharp pain in my thigh – a glass shard had cut through the trash bag, through my shorts, and stabbed into my thigh.
I pulled up the leg of my shorts just in time to see the start of Bloodfest 2009. I grabbed a paper towel, pressed on the cut, and then instant messaged Gibs to see if he could drive me to the hospital.
But Gibs was at work. Drats!