Help me get my feet back on the ground

Either I am suffering from an undiagnosed case of
Munchausen syndrome or I am more clumsy than I had thought.

I bought a callous shaver last week. (To my boy readers, this looks like a spoon with a razor blade in it. You use it when giving yourself a pedicure.) I suppose I got a bit over zealous with the pressure because I sort of took out a slice of skin from my tootsie. Oh dear! The blood! The gore!

But it doesn't end there.

I have a love affair with garlic. I will find a way to include fresh cloves of this pungent wonder in any recipe. I use a very large, extremely sharp cleaver to dice the cloves. (You can imagine when this is going, can't you?) Well, there I was in the kitchen, wearing just socks, when the knife slipped from my hand and fell...fell...fell in what seemed like a slow-motion decent and landed on my other foot. But there was no pain.

I closed my eyes for about 10 seconds I recalled a cut I never felt. In 1986 I severed one of my fingers with a kitchen knife. I never felt any pain because I cut through the nerves in my hand. What alerted me to that cut was the massive amount of blood.

I opened my eyes. The knife was laying on top of my foot, but the side of the blade was what hit my foot. Whew! Double whew!

So for your own safety, I advise if you see me with any type of sharp object, you flee immediately.

My title if from Help!