As an epilogue to yesterday’s sloth blog, I forgot to mention two things.

First, I hadn’t changed during that whole time. Now, I didn’t go out either and I didn’t workout, so it’s not like it was gross or anything, but I tend to not be good at changing clothes that often when I’m left by myself. It’s like I revert to 1991 all over again, a year during which I think I did laundry approximately twice in nine months. And I didn’t have anywhere near as large a t-shirt collection as I do now.

And secondly, when I was making dinner at 9:45 p.m. last night, I was slicing onions right over the pan instead of using a cutting board and, well, you guessed it. I cut my finger.

I remembered this second part just a little bit ago.

After spending two hours rooting on my Husker hoops team–that was a game they will wish they had back at end of the year because they just didn’t finish; wow, heard that before, but it sounds different now–I let off a little steam and got out of sloth mode by going for a run. I did 5.0 miles and felt pretty good.

I then showered and weighed in (note: an apparent benefit of stupid eating while I’m alone is weight loss; I’m down 2.5 pounds this week despite just sitting around doing not much). I got dressed, came down stairs and went to get a glass of G2.

So how did getting G2 remind me of cutting myself last night? Because of the blood. Duh.

I pulled the 2-liter of G2 out of the fridge and it slipped from my hand, crashing into the floor. The red liquid did a little more than just spill. It gushed. The G2 that is, not the blood.

The drink lid snapped in half when the bottle hit the floor and spilled almost a liter, of which nearly 1/2 of it ended up on my pants, which I had just taken out of the dryer before I went to run. Typical.

As I cleaned up the drink everywhere on the kitchen floor, of course I stepped in it twice and tracked it around. My pant leg was also dragging and sploshing it around. Then when I was finally almost done, I found a dark red spot where I had just cleaned. I immediately knew it was blood and not G2, and I thought maybe I stepped on some part of the lid and it cut my foot.

Nope. It was the tip of my left pinky, which somehow pulled back open and was oozing again like last night over the stove, the sink, the garbage can, everywhere. This time wasn’t as bad, but still annoying.

Great. Really, I can’t be left alone.

Anyway, just another everyday in my dumb world. I can’t wait to start working again next week.