My cats would not shut the fuck up this morning, and they started earlier than usual. At 7:00 I finally got fed up and flew out of bed and threw open the door to put a foot in they ass, when I felt immediate, excruciating pain on my pinky. The door slammed on my finger (on the extra-pinchy hinge side). I, bleary-eyed and sans contact lenses, examined the damage and instead of seeing the expected bruise or blood blister, I saw that I had completely crushed off the tip of my finger, nail and all. I was bleeding, bleeding my own blood! I screamed a slew of expletives, grabbed a wash cloth to apply pressure, and took a seat on the bathroom floor before I could pass out and add a head injury to the mess.
Four hours in the ER later, I have 4 stitches and 15 (err.. 14) Vicodin. The pills are already starting to wear off and I'm bleeding through my bandages, so I'm gonna cut this short. Typing entirely with my left hand is hardly expedient, so I'm out for a few more days. Scott cracked me up in the ER waiting room by saying, "wow, honey you really pwned yourself!"
EDIT: I forgot to mention that, in a bizarre twist of irony, that the Nurse Practitioner who sewed me up has a passion for cooking! He participates in a food blog (a "vlog" actually, it's a video blog) called Fat Belly Traveller. Check him out in this video. Thanks again for the good work on the finger, Denny!