Pay attention when using an axe, kids.
I was cutting up some dead branches in the back yard one afternoon to make a small fire for the evening, and was using an axe to cut them to length. I held the branch in my left hand and the axe in my right, close to the head to keep good control on it. I chopped a notch with two blows, then turned over the branch and hit the back of the notch to break off the chunk. Chop, chop, turn, crack. Chop, chop, turn, crack.

As I worked my younger son came out to complain to me about something his older brother had done. I told him to take it to his mother, as I was busy. He told me that she was in the shower getting ready for work and had told him to come talk to me about it. All the while I was continuing to cut and was getting increasingly irritated at the fact that their mother couldn't even deal with a petty squabble and hit the branches harder. Chop, chop, turn, crack. Chop, chop, turn, crack. Chop, chop, turn, CRACK! And the chunk of branch flipped up and caught me in the right eyebrow.

I dropped the axe. "FUCK!" I put my hand to my forehead and felt the blood flowing already. I went into the house and called for Nurse Ratched.

"I'm getting ready for work!" she snapped.

"I think I need to come with you. I just had an accident."

"WHAT?!?" She burst out of the bedroom in her granny pants and bra. "What happened?"

"I got hit by a branch."

"What the hell are we going to do with the kids?" she screeched, the veins already popping out in her face. "I have to go to work!"

"We'll take them to my sister. Please hurry up, the blood is dripping down my elbow now."

She stomped back into the room and I heard her call my sister. There was much chatter and some giggling, and all the while a small puddle was forming on the floor. After a couple of minutes I called up to her. "Look, I'll just drive myself in, okay? Just tape some gauze in place and I'll go."

She reappeared at the door, phone in hand and still in her granny pants. "You're in no shape to drive!"

I looked at her for a moment. "And you are?"

She stomped off again as I went to the kitchen to get a new paper towel and find the tape and gauze. I was about to apply it myself when she reappeared and grumpily did it for me. "You should wait for me to take you to work."

Right. I'll just wait here bleeding while you do your hair and makeup. That's certainly sensible. I said none of this, of course, but just said "Please tell my sister that I'll get the kids when they're done with me."

Twenty-three tiny little stitches later...

Best part: two weeks later my eyebrow was still sore, so while at work I took a closer look in the mens' room mirror. I noticed a small dark spot that looked different from the rest of the scabbed over area, and touching it sent a sharp pain through my eyebrow. I gritted my teeth and took a drip on it with my fingernails- and pulled out a nice little splinter of wood that had been in there the entire time.

Length? About a quarter inch that had been embedded at a slant.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 30 Jul 2010, 16:30, Reply)