And then my head fell off

Nothing is cooperating with me these days. Not only has the coriander not reappeared, but the phone disappeared for a while today. I went to make a phone call and it was not there. The cradle was empty. And I was the last person to use it.

I hunted and hunted and hunted, and finally, when it rang, located it on a bookshelf. Why was it on the bookshelf? I didn't even go NEAR the bookshelf.

Shortly after that I was cooking dinner. I put the asari (clams) into the saucepan, then picked up the big kitchen knife to chop some tomatoes. I picked up the knife by the handle, and as I did I felt a sharp stinging sensation on my hand. I dropped the knife, and looked at my hand. A drop of blood was welling. I had a small cut. BUT I HAD NOT TOUCHED THE KNIFE BLADE. I PICKED IT UP BY THE HANDLE.

It was a very small cut. I stared at it suspiciously. I wanted to blame somebody, but there was nobody around to blame.

I told The Man about it after he came home.

"There is something funny going on," I said. "I think we have poltergeists or something. First they moved the phone to the bookshelf and then they cut my hand. Look!"

The Man examined my hand. Then he picked up a magnifying glass and examined it again.

"It's a paper cut," he said. "You got a paper cut, but it was so small you didn't feel it. Then when you picked up the knife you moved your thumb and opened the cut, and that's when you noticed it."

I thought about it.

"Also," he added. "You put the phone on the bookshelf yourself. I saw you do it."

I was still thinking about the cut.

"You mean like when a knife is so sharp that someone chops off someone else's head and that person doesn't notice until they shake their head, and it falls off?" I asked.

He sighed.

"I think you need a holiday," he said.

I think I do, too. It's a good thing I'm going to get one soon.

(I marked 120 tests today. It took seven hours.)



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