Oohhh, shiny

Nothing exciting ever happens to me. I never win contests, I have never met anyone famous nor am I ever mistaken for anyone famous, and the only thing I excel at besides Jeopardy! answers is making a real fool of myself.
Today I got the double-whammy: something exciting happened AND I made a real fool out of myself, so it was kind of invigorating. I happen to be a klutz, and have injured myself trivially many times. I have cut myself, bruised myself, burned myself, sprained myself and embarrassed myself with no help from anyone or anything, and it's usually as a result of some irresponsible whim or oversight. Whatever injuries I have sustained have been totally boring because they weren't serious and usually born of my own negligence so I can't expect too much sympathy.
Not so today, ladies and gents. I was at work, wrestling with a particularly tightly wrapped bar I needed to hang some clothes on, so I went to cut the wrapping with a box cutter. A box cutter with a fresh shining blade, angled like a guillotine and so sharp I barely felt it when it sliced straight through my palm.
For once in my life I was shocked: I had been cutting away from myself like they always tell you, I had been responsible. Yet I found myself en route to the emergency room to get nine stitches and a tetanus shot.
I keep looking at the sheet from the hospital because it never gets less cool no matter how many times I read the words "Loving, Alyse. Laceration, hand."
The difference is this: when you are a child, you get a cut. You know you're a grown up when you get a LACERATION.