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Okay, I wasn't going to talk about this, but we seem to be in a dead thread situation. Maybe I'll just keep telling stupid stories until people start posting.

Do you believe that some things were meant to be? I think I had one of those "meant to be" situations this week.

I was in my attic putting some boxes and cheap shelving units up there for storage. I was barefoot because I like to go barefoot around the house. I stepped near some old clothing that the people before me left on the attic floor, and I felt something graze my right foot along the inside of the arch. I looked down to see a roofing nail against my foot. I stepped away quickly and looked at my foot. There wasn't a mark on my foot. The nail scratched me, but it didn't scratch hard enough to leave a mark. I moved the nail to a place where I couldn't step on it and made a mental note to wear sandals or shoes of some kind when I go in the attic again.

As I was getting ready for bed, I saw a pocket knife on the shelf next to my bed, and for some reason, I decided to open the knife. I forget what I was going to cut or why I picked it up at all. As I pulled the blade open with my left hand, my right hand lost grip on the handle. I started to grab for it but decided that grabbing a slipping knife might not be a good idea. I decided to let it fall and scooted back. The knife hit the ground about a foot to eighteen inches from my feet and bounced directly at me. It hit my right foot exactly where the nail had scratched me earlier in the evening.

It didn't hurt at all, and I wasn't worried. I was just going to pick it up, do whatever I as going to do, and go about my business. I suddenly noticed three dark spots by the knife and looked down at my foot. The blade had caught a little blood vessel on my foot, and I was bleeding like crazy. I got to the bathroom and got a gauze pad on the cut. It stopped soon after I applied the pad. I took a shower and then re-applied another pad with a good covering of Neosporin. I was fine.

Unfortunately, my carpet wasn't fine. The bedroom and bathroom looked like an episode of CSI. I was glad that I was the one cut because I knew that the cut wasn't bad. If I'd seen that much blood coming from someone else, it would have made me queasy. The bathroom tiles weren't that hard to clean, but my bedroom carpet is ruined. Fortunately, it was really in horrible shape before this happened.

Bill