Knifiquette

So. I got this idea last night that I wanted to write a post about carrying a knife, and maintenance and usage and blah this and blah that and so on about having a knife on you at all times. And so forth.

But probably far more entertaining is what inspired my sudden renewed appreciation for a handy knife at all times.

You see, a couple of days ago, I discovered a zit in a Very Personal Place. On a very special episode of The Jake Show.

And lately I haven't been sleeping (which probably explains why this post is being written at all) because I have sick children. Rachel coughs all night and Harrison opens his bedroom door several times per night just to hear me say "Harrison, get back in bed Right Now!" All in a booming daddy voice.

So knowing that I'd have to open the Davis Lab this morning and wake up at 5:30 am to do so, I went to bed at a pretty reasonable hour for me, 11:00 pm. What...Is that bad? Why are you laughing?

And as I was saying, I didn't sleep. And I was lying in bed trying to think peaceful thoughts and not be angry at the boy because, you know, he's just three and sometimes when you're three you just need comforting. But I'll be damned if I'm going to let him make a habit out of getting comforted every morning at 2 am. But I'm not angry. No. Don't confuse my firmness with the boy for anger. Daddies need to be strong. Little boys need daddy to be strong. I am strong for the boy. Outside of that, I'm more or less marshmallowy. Ahem!

Yeah. Well I'm relaxing in bed and the zit hurts. I know I'm not going to be asleep any time soon, and it hurts. So I went to the bathroom to kill it.

My family has a secret hiding place for a sharp pin so that when you need it--for just this sort of occasion--you don't have to search frantically. You just reach to the top of the bathroom door jamb, and there's the pin. Handy, right?

But it wasn't there. PANIC! Where's a Hitchhiker's Guide when I need one?

So I went to Crystal, who of course, was also not sleeping, but making a valiant effort at pretending-to-be-asleep-to-fool-her-body-into-making-it-so and interrogated her on the whereabouts of the desperately needed pin. She knew nothing, and nothing short of torture would get her to even lie about it.

So naturally, I went to my desk. For a knife.

You see, in the early morning hours, I am fearless. So make that a big damned knife. My Leatherman Wave. Heh. If this thing can't pop a zit, then a jackhammer can't.

So I'm once again in front of the bathroom mirror, this time with a zit-killing implement, and not even once flinching at the idea of bringing a very large, sharp metal object near my Very Personal Area with the express intent of taking advantage of the superb cutting qualities of said very large, sharp metal object.

Perhaps at noon something could have gone wrong. But at 2 am? Not on your life. The cutting took about half a second and went exactly as planned, no skin was lost (oh thankyouthankyouthankyou, Heavenly Entity for my steady hands), and what needed draining drained as planned.

And my appreciation for a good knife was reaffirmed. A scant 18 hours ago in my bathroom, lacking the proper implement but having skill enough to make it ok. And I slept really well from about 3:45 to 5:30.