I never paid heed to the phrase "bleeding like a stuck pig." Until I was the pig. And I have to blame scrapbooking. Noooooo.
In advance of Camp Crop-A-Lot in a few weeks, our scrapbooking consultant reached out to see if we needed any product ordered before camp. We could earn tickets for fabulous prizes, by the way.
So I had a feeling I was in need of some tape runners – what we use to adhere paper and photos to the pages.
I pulled out my main supply cart (yes, it's a thing) and blindly reached in to see if I had any new ones in pages but instead came face to face – or finger to blade – with a paper trimmer cutting blade. Just lying face up, waiting for a quick, very tiny slice.
And it was such a teeny tiny puncture wound to my righthand middle finger, yet I am still bleeding 20 minutes later. Good grief, I had no idea our fingers carried so much blood!
So now this little piggy really needs to cry all the way home so she can order some tape runners without more blood on the stinking computer keyboard.
How is it I am a hot mess every day without even trying. Must be a superpower, I guess.







