There were 4 loads of laundry, Christmas cards to be written, presents to wrap, and various other chores I put off. I was working steadily on my to-do list until I realized it was getting later and I still hadn’t eaten lunch. I decided to do something easy and make ravioli from the can. You know the little cans with the pop-tops that open when you pull the ring? Wrong. They do not open when you are in a hurry. In fact, when you are in a hurry, the ring pops off and forces you to think of another way. Because you are now mad at the can for causing this to happen, you are determined to beat it at its’ own game. You get the can opener. You try to open it that way only to find it gets stuck half-way. Fine. You will not beat me can of ravioli. I get a spoon out and try to pry the lid off that way. Yes, I see this one coming, but I don’t stop as I am mad at it for being uncooperative.
I manage to get my finger under the lid to pry it up the last little bit and think to myself that perhaps this is a bad idea at the exact second it gives way and slices my finger. So now I try to remain calm because of course it is bleeding. I wash the ravioli sauce/blood from my thumb and apply pressure. Hmmm. This was not in my plan today. I have too much to do. I have an hour to get ready. Let me research if I need stitches. Apply pressure for 20 minutes and if it stops bleeding and doesn’t look too deep you are good to go. Okay. I can do this. Much paper towel later, it appears fine. Sorry to those people who won’t be getting a Christmas card this year. It’s the ravioli’s fault.
“A kitten is chiefly remarkable for rushing about like mad at nothing whatever, and generally stopping before it gets there.” ~Agnes Repplier
