Ow

Two more posts to go, and I stab myself in the palm in a freak knitting accident.

I have no idea what happened. I was smirking gently at the television [or, not paying attention - Ed], and knitting a sock. I put the sock down on the armrest of my chair. Vigorously. I had no idea it was possible to put one’s knitting down with excess vigour, but there you go. Hand, being irresistible force, meets 2.5 mm needle playing immovable object.

It really hurt.

Now what?

[Ice. Alcohol. That kind of thing].

[Also, I feel I must make it perfectly clear this wound is a small puncture wound with some bruising, and not, as Reed is making out, an impalement of any kind of remarkable dimension; and the only horrifying thing about the whole incident was her language.]