Death Of A Thousand Cuts
Cut myself today. Dumb. I may not have had a thousand cuts, but over a lifetime it's starting to add up. I cut that spot on your hand that has no name (at least in English) about an inch behind the base of my left thumb. Deep. Five stitches and it didn't hurt a bit. Till now. It is going to be one of those throbbers, I can tell already. I'll just call this one #756. That leaves me only about 9 or ten cuts per year until I croak. I'll try not to make a habit out of this.