"Sure. Where did you put the...OH MY GOD!"
"It's not that bad. I'm just gonna apply pressure," I said, reassuringly. Of course, with my finger in my mouth, it came out more like "iffthsnut thut bud..."
"Why is your finger in your MOUTH!?"
"Because it...I figured it would...keep blood off the floor? Look, I don't know why I do what I do. The best you can hope for is that you don't become collateral damage."
"Why don't you try not injuring yourself while doing routine home maintenance tasks?"
"Have you _met_ me? We've known each other how long - a dozen years - and you haven't figured it out yet? This is precisely why my first aid kit is so well stocked."
It's been about three weeks, and it's pretty much healed. This was a few days after it happened; it's much better now. The cut was deep enough to sever nerves, so there is a band of tissue across my thumb that feels tingly, like Lidocaine just starting to wear off. I find myself rubbing it against the edge of my desk, pressing against it with my fingernail, poking it with my pen, in part to see if the sensation has come back yet, but more because I'm fascinated by that hard, shiny line where I can't feel anything.