bloody wednesday

it is not even 1:00 and this day has already contained a week's of drama. i love it.

this week has been pretty average, on the whole. i've woken up early every morning to write and to drink my coffee in hours of sunny peace. i've met some friends for drinks, i've gone on walks, i've read books, i've been studying for the gre... certainly nothing to write home about.

then, wednesday decided to throw a rock into my placid week. i woke up late: we all know, this is NEVER good. it was 7:20, and i needed to leave the house by 7:30 to meet nelli for a visit to the immigration police. so i hurried out of bed so quickly that i became dizzy and, with my blurred morning vision, ran right into my table and stubbed my toe. i felt a little bit like lucille two suffering from vertigo, but i had no time to dwell on my pathetic coordination. i brushed my teeth, got dressed, washed my face and then painted it back on, did my hair and complemented myself on how surprisingly great i looked for getting ready in a mere ten minutes! (it's a gift, really). i rushed into my kitchen to cut some bread to take with me on my way. i pulled out a butter knife from the drawer and began to attack my hard-crusted bread, and all of a sudden a blue streak left my mouth and i looked at my forefinger to see a stream of blood pouring from it's innocent tip. i ran to the sink and tried to get the bleeding to stop, but it simply wouldn't. i rushed to the bathroom to get some toilet paper, which the blood soaked in a matter of seconds. i searched all around my apartment, praying to find some band-aids... no luck. meanwhile, i am leaving a trail of blood behind me, and spreading it with my frantically searching feet. i panicked. i didn't know what to do. the blood just kept gushing and i was hopeless in making it stop. suddenly, i remembered that i had a washcloth i was about to throw away (the last wash didn't quite remove it's funky smell), so i wrapped it tightly around my finger. the blue washcloth quickly began soaking the blood, but at least it was thick enough to start being effective. with the funky-smelling, blood-stained washcloth suspiciously covering my hand, i dashed out of my apartment (and managed to trip twice on the way out, no less).

i started walking to the bus station, in a hurry, clearly flustered, holding a bloody washcloth over my hand. you would think that this (or at least my stunning, i-got-ready-in-ten-minutes beauty) would cause my fellow street walkers to pause, at least for half a second. oddly enough i hardly received one confused stare. i see a handful of confused, "what-the-hell" stares when i'm normally walking to work... suddenly, when i'm rushed, slightly panicked, holding a blue, blood-stained washcloth, nobody cares?! i got on the bus, and the same thing: NO ONE noticed! this was highly disappointing. i had no one to share my drama with! even when i arrived at the police station and met nelli, she calmly greeted me "good morning, annie. how are you?" i wanted to say "LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT MY FINGER! I HAD A TRAUMA THIS MORNING!" but instead i held up my wrapped finger and said, "sorry i'm a bit late, i cut my finger this morning." and she sweetly replied, "oh, that's too bad."

we went up to wait at for the police, and i cautiously unwrapped my finger, and saw that my whole hand was covered in blood and my finger tip was swollen... and i saw that the cut went nearly as deep as my fingernail. the cut skin was thick and flappy. luckily, however, the bleeding had ceased to gush. it was just slowly trickling. i showed it to nelli and asked if i should see a doctor (i was sure the answer would be yes. slovaks usually tell me i need to go to the doctor if i feel the least bit under-the-weather). she said, "ohh no, we can go to a pharmacy and get a bandage after." again, i couldn't believe it.  but i didn't argue, because i'd avoid slovak doctors at all costs.

we finally went into the police, i received my visa, and we were on our way out. it was, without question, the least complicated visit i've had with the police. then we stopped at the pharmacy and we got gauze and band-aids, and calmly made our way to school. when i arrived at school, i tried to convey my trauma to my co-workers... but they just said "oh you'll be fine."

i fully understand that i love to create drama about the simplest things that happen to me. god knows i could freak out for hours about a weird pain i had in my foot or a strange noise i heard outside. but truly, i thought this was actually at least a little dramatic. i mean, i nearly lost the tip of my finger... with a butter knife. it's kind of a big deal, right?

ok, maybe not. but maybe i can be thankful that this small hiccup is about the extent of drama in my life at the moment. i'll keep my (wounded) fingers crossed.