beware of sharp objects (or how I was fooled by a letter opener)

letter.jpg 

You: A new bright blue letter opener. The kind with the razor-sharp blade on the end of a poker-thingie that goes under the envelope flap.

Me: Overjoyed to have a new letter-opener that will actually cut the envelope flaps with its smooth, unused razor edge instead of mangling them to death like my old, overused, dull-edged letter opener.

You: Picking up on my eagerness

Me:  Hastily ripping open the stubborn cellophane packaging to get at my new bright blue letter opener.

You:  Making sure blade is positioned “just so” as I manage to finally tear the package open.

Me:  Feeling the razor-sharpness slice neatly into the sensitive fleshy part of the “naughty finger” of my left hand, then using appropriately naughty language to express my dismay at the copious amounts of blood seeping out of the wound which appears to be at least two inches deep and six inches long (warning: all wounds appear larger when first observed).

You:  Acting all innocent-like, as if to say “who me?” then just sitting there on the desk as if nothing had happened.

Me:  Cursing the day you were born and wishing you a nice life IN HELL as I resign myself to spending the rest of the day typing one-handed, while making sure I don’t bleed all over the place.   I fling your bright blue carcass into the trash bin.

……….. 

Later, after the bleeding has completely stopped and I have peeled back the band-aid protecting my cut, I find it is neither two inches deep nor six inches long. As I retrieve the letter opener from the trash, I begin to question the sanity of attributing human characteristics to an inanimate object.  Could it be that I am responsible for my own careless actions?  Could it be that the letter opener does not actually “have it out” for me?  Could it be that I subconsciously hurt myself because of my own guilt over some rude and provocative snarky comment I made to Ken the night before?   

I tape the band-aid back onto my finger, settle back in my chair, and firmly address the newly retrieved letter opener: “Don’t try anymore funny stuff or I swear to all that is holy that I will feed your sorry ass to the shredder next time.”

I’m keeping my eye on that one. Oh yes indeedy.

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