the best laid plans

Robert Burns wrote in 1785, "'The best-laid plans of mice and men go oft awry." And, so, occasionally it goes with me: A couple years back when I was flying to Toronto right after work, I promptly ran my car into a snow bank on my morning commute (in my apartment parking lot). Today, in the midst of all my packing, typing, running around, and occasionally crocheting, I sliced away a piece of my finger. I thought I might need stitches, but there is no skin to stitch (I like to be thorough, you know), and with minimal health insurance, I hope to avoid any medical center right now. I'll save you the details and the picture I sent my parents to ask their advice; suffice to say, I'm typing sans-left index finger and curious to see how well my skin repairs as well as what sort of scar I'll have.

Sidenote: To my credit, I should note, that even though, in my slight panic, I asked my dad how much blood needed to be coming out before I needed "stickers" instead of stitches; and I plugged my headset cords in the wrong jacks on my computer, I did convert the dimensions of my wound to centimeters for my parents who are now living in Canada.