I've told this story elsewhere. But something has recently made it come to mind for me again.
A few days ago, someone at work was cut by a sheet.
A sheet.
Yes, and this dangerous thin-weave cloth was checked over carefully by several folks, to find out what dangerous teeth and claws it was hiding. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was a sheet, and as offensive as any peice of fabric gets, which is to say not very. Certainly nothing was on it that could possibly be called an edge or a point. Yet it managed to leave a respectable hole in a coworker.
I have, over the years, been injured a lot at work. I once had someone remark to me after a long weekend, that she couldn't remember a week when I hadn't been cut or jabbed or otherwise hurt. For a relatively static job, that's something. But it is never the dangerous things that get me. Never knives, or falling objects, or, you know, stuff that happens near me that should by all rights send me to the hospital. So I have some regrettable experience with bleeding at my job. Usually it's from the things that shouldn't hurt me that I receive cuts. (Or falling out of things, but that is a story for another time.)
Don't believe me? Heh. In my tenure at the place I work (hereafter known as Soar), I have been cut or injured by many strange things. I have received minor cuts from balls, by blankets. I had to pry a splinter nearly half an inch long from a old wood toy out of my hand once. A pillow once made me bleed. I will bear the scar from a sofa to my dying day (its a small scar, but still. A sofa.) A coffee mug gave me a cut that took eleven stitches to close. Other minor injuries include doors and one very irritable chair. I have embedded small bits of glass in my flesh more than a few times, and there was that incident with the book.
Ever get a cut from a book's leather cover? I have.
I can take these. They don't bother me. Most have reasons behind them. The ball had glass embedded. (Glass hurts me often - as does ceremic.) The pillow, needles. The sofa did its work on me with a staple, and the full weight of its steel reinforced sleeper frame behind that staple digging in. The coffee mug shattered in my hand and a shard passed through the finger. The blanket...
Well, okay. No one knows how the damn blanket cut me. But that one is weird enough that it isn't pathetic, its more a file for the bizzare.
Seeing why, as weird as a sheet cutting someone, I am not more amazed?
The worst though, and the record of the oddest object to every cause a person to bleed? I still hold that one.
That's because, about a half a year ago I was cut by a Hello Kitty Pez Dispenser.
You read that right.
More, there was no conceivable way for it to cut me. It wasn't broken. No part of this thing was hard or pointed. There were no sharp edges. There were barely edges! I can't even recall corners that weren't rounded off. You could hand this to a kid, and he'd be safe from everything except eating Pez.
How the hell does one live down being injured by a Hello Kitty Pez Dispenser? I mean, its got a big cute rounded plastic cat head for chrissake.
This is the rock bottom of injuries. This makes paper cuts look noble.
Sorry, distracted.
Anyhow. Some places, it seems anything can be a surprise. Also, next time you get injured, stop and think, "Hey, as bad as this is, it could be worse. A sheet could have done this to me." Or, god forbid, a Hello Kitty Pez Dispenser.
Unless, of course, you think you can top it?
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