There are times when I feel my singledom a little more strongly than other times.
Like tonight, there’s nothing make you feel alone like carving a rotisserie chicken and including your thumb in the process.
There’s nothing that makes you feel more alone than:
- scrambling to find and grab paper towels to apply compression to the cut, because it’s deep.
- assessing your own wound to determine if you should go get stitches. (I don’t think I do.)
- cleaning up your own blood from the floor and the face of the oven.
- trying to put a band-aid on your dominant hand without help.
- looking at that knife and realizing you made it through four bread knife serrations before stopping.
- finishing carving that damn chicken with your non-dominant hand. In fact, you give up and start picking it apart instead.
- checking the chicken to make sure you didn’t get blood on it (somehow you didn’t).
- realizing your band-aid ain’t gonna cut it, as you put pressure on it and blood gushes from it.
- rummaging through your first aid kit at the bottom and back of the bathroom sink to get the good gauze and medical tape.
- putting that damn bandage on your dominant hand without help.
- fighting back tears because you just want someone there to help you and hold you, but there’s no one.
My thumb will be fine. I will be fine. Certainly I’ve survived worse than a cut thumb.
You wouldn’t think a chicken could affect your emotions so much, but that one carving incident brought up quite a lot. Single life can be really good, but sometimes you just want a fucking hug and no one is around.