In one of those random accidents that befall everyone, I managed to give myself two gashes on the top of my right foot. I will not describe the wounds in further detail. This is done partly for the sake of the supposedly squeamish, partly because my writing style may lead one to think that these wounds were more threatening than they actually were, and also because further information may reveal them to be insignificant, despite the blood that definitely oozed.

Because my attention was devoted to other things, it took me a full three or four minutes to realize that I was bleeding. My reaction was sudden, surprised, and full of profanities that I never utter in polite company (in most company at all, come to think of it). I had a love affair to sabotage: my plan was to find bandaids before Mrs. Gravity introduced Ms. Blood to Mr. Carpet, thereby preventing the two from becoming inseparable. My search did not find those little strips, but did find a gauze pad, so I grabbed a nearby red bandana and made do. I later found the desired box and replaced the hobo-without-socks look with three bandaids.

...

Did you know that if you put lettuce in a ziploc bag and leave it in the fridge, it does not just rot? Ohhhhh no, it's actually much better than just that. Lettuce takes the process one step further and actually liquidifies.