Other than the very occasional paper cut, I only tend to injure myself in the kitchen. It's not the knives - well not often anyway. I seem to have grasped the concept that sharp metal can cause cuts. Cuts usually mean blood. Liz no likey blood. Ergo, Liz does her darnedest not to chop her fingers off.
What I struggle with is hot things.
A baking tray that's been in the oven for an hour? A stock pot that's been sitting on the stove top? A sauce I can see bubbling away before my eyes? I can't see the heat and therefore it's not there.
I'm just made to be burnt. Oil, water, flames, metal, sun ... I've done it all.
This time it was the baking tray (NB. I did have a thick towel that I use as an oven mitt - it was just in my other hand). Considering the pain, the amount of time spent with my hand under running water, the numbness, the pain, the weird antiseptic ointment and glove treatment that seems to have worked, the pain and the one-handed shampoo I managed this morning (put the broken thermostat into the equation too and I just couldn't face conditioning), the bandaid - admittedly it's large, but it's still just a bandaid - I have on my hand this morning seems rather anticlimactic.
How on earth am I meant to get outpourings of sympathy with just a bandaid?!
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