Anyway, you know those plastic things that 20 oz. soda bottles are wrapped up with? I was cutting the rings out of them so that fish & other creatures don't get caught in them and die of starvation or whatever. I'm happily cutting along when *snip* my finger got in the way. It's not a bad cut but the blood does start to flow, so I grab a paper napkin and put some pressure on it. Searching the office for a band-aid I realize that I don't have anything like that and I need to go to a neighbor for help. I finally get one from the nice lady in the CPA office down the hall.
While I'm there I start to feel light-headed and ask to sit down. As I'm telling her the story of how I pass out sometimes at the sight of my own blood I pass out. Great. And to top it all off my limbs start twitching (cause that happens sometimes according to Wikipedia) and I scare this poor lady half to death.
I finally come around and she gives me some water and asks if I need to go to the hospital or anything. I thank her profusely and call my parents to come get me. My body didn't like passing out very much and I don't think I should drive. I get home and rest and everything is good. All's well that ends well, right? Wrong.
My wife and mother-in-law find out about my experience and are, at first, very concerned. However, when they found out that I had passed out after just nicked my finger with scissors they have a good laugh at my expense. It's OK though, I'm used to it. This story just joins the others, like the one about the 3 year old throwing sand in my face. That one always gets a laugh out of everyone. I'm not bitter though. No, not me.