So I have a cut on my head.
Clearly, I did not cut myself shaving as I am not shaving my head (yet). So, what happened, you ask?
Well, I got cut with a blade.
Sounds tough, ainna? Well, not really. It’s clearly not a knife wound.
An ice skate blade did this to me.
Well, no, I only wish it had happened doing something manly like hockey.
For ten years except for a couple of trips to the ice park (well, maybe only one), my beautiful wife has hung her ice skates on a nail in the garage, a nail on the front of the built-in shelving. The shelves feature many such nails, and we hang grill brushes, calendars, and at one time a thermometer from these nails. And her skates, ostensibly to protect the blades from the damage that would occur if we just tumbled them in a bin with other sporting goods.
So this weekend, when I was putting away some bottled water under the shelving, I stood up into the skates and nicked my head.
It’s not the first time.
So what makes this a very Brian J. injury? That I’ve not moved the skates to a nail in a more remote location in the garage. Partially this.
But, more to the point: I have engaged in a month- (soon to be months-) long project of cleaning up and organizing my garage, which involves sorting, packing, and donating various jetsam that has appeared in our garage. And, during the course of this re-organization, I discovered knit ice skate blade covers, and they made their way to a diminishing pile of things on the floor to deal with later.
So the very objects that would have protected my fragile gourd lie useless on the floor mere feet away whilst I cut myself on the ice skate blades. I worked around the ice skate blade covers during my working sessions and walked past them several times a day without taking a minute to actually put them on the ice skates.
I have done so now.
But it’s a very Brian J. thing to not do a little thing that eventually turns into a big thing. Or, in this case, a physical injury and perhaps a wicked scar whose origin I will hereafter obfuscate by saying, “I got cut,” and not want to talk about it.
