On the Injured List

I burned my finger on the toaster oven this morning.

I'd already burned two slices of raisin-cinnamon swirl bread because I didn't think they were toasty enough on the first cycle, so I stuck them in for another cycle. Usually when I do this, I monitor the toastiness closely and take them out before they turn into charcoal briquettes. Today I had to head to the bathroom, and by the time I got back, it was carbon city.

I immediately tossed those in the trash: None of this trying to scrape the black bits off and cover up the rest with strawberry cream cheese to salvage it for me! The two new slices stuck together when I laid them on the rack, and as I reached in to pry the top one off, the back of my hand got too close to the hot metal. Now I have a lovely hot pink section on the lower portion of my middle finger.

Time for more ointment.


  1. You know what I immediately thought of? That episode of "The Office" when Michael comes in with a burnt foot because he brings his George Foreman grill into bed so he can have breakfast in bed .... I assume you were toasting upright, in the kitchen, in the normal fashion?

    My sympathy, either way.

  2. Ha! That's hilarious on several levels.

    Have I mentioned that Cathy has been making fun of me because I spent most of the month of February in bed? Now that I have the TV/VCR in my bedroom, why leave, right?

    I referred to the bed as the command center once, because I also dragged in my laptop, and she was totally squicked out and said I'm going to wind up like those thousand-pound people that can only leave the house once the fire department shows up and cuts through a wall. I had been thinking similar thoughts because I had just come across a show about that on tv the night before.

    So, now that it's (sort of) warming up, I resolve to spend less time in bed.

    And, to answer your question, yes I was in the kitchen, toasting upright.