Be careful this weekend

I cut off a big piece of my thumb last night using the mandoline we got as a wedding gift. Because of course I did. I am a person who can't be trusted around anything that is remotely sharp, bumpy, or otherwise unwieldy.

I still maintain it was partially Achilles' fault, because he told me to "Be careful!" just as I was finishing up my slicing activities. I think there's some variant of Murphy's Law that says you never tell someone to "Be careful!" when they're using a sharp object (unless you secretly want them to cut themselves), because if you do, they will inevitably cut themselves.

I don't have the energy to Google this, but if one of you happens to know whether this law exists, and if so, what it is called, I will buy you a beer if I ever meet you in real life. (Or, if I already know you, I will buy you a beer the next time I see you.)(Unless you are pregnant, in which case, we will have to work something else out, because I am becoming a bit overly parenthetical.) Until I hear otherwise, I'm going to call the you-don't-tell-someone-wielding-a-sharp-object-to-be-careful-unless-you-secretly-want-them-to-cut-themselves rule Biscuit's Law (because my nickname in elementary school was Biscuit, and that was probably the first time I accidentally cut myself because someone else wasn't minding their own business).

I hope you have a wonderful weekend, Internets. If you happen to be in Dublin, Texas, I'll be there running, drinking Dr Pepper made with real sugar, nursing my wound, and contemplating personal responsibility.