wife's bowl of spaghetti. I suppose I was being too cavalier with that block of hard cheese and what apparently is a very dangerous kitchen utensil. To her credit, my wife did not panic at the sight of blood. She calmly devoured her supper, knuckle and all, as I tended to my gushing wound. The meal was 'delicious,' she later commented, though she 'could have done without the chewy bits.'
This spells the end of my thumb's functionality, and any hope of solving Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! (when I was sooo close to beating the second Don Flamenco). I might as well have the sucker chopped. I'm thinking wood as a replacement, or maybe Obamacare will pony up for one of those lightweight aluminum models.