I keep meaning to put up the post about my lemony butter cake that got invaded by the 2nd-most vile creatures in the world (ANTS). But... I am ever so lazy to upload my pictures :/ Oh well...

I always had a fear of knives and other thin, sharp things. A high-pitched *squeeee* plays in my mind when I see cutty things and I keep visualising myself being cut. I remember how, when I was young and stupid, I always wanted to help to cut the vegetables, just because. I guess it was the most immediate-results thing to do in cooking. Every time I did though, EVERY time, I ended up cutting my index finger. Perhaps this was how my fear was generated.

Having had to look after myself for the past 3 years, the knife was an unavoidable tool I had to wield for my survival. Surprisingly (I just realised) I had not gotten a knife cut in all my 3 years! Until yesterday. I think, really, I should avoid the kitchen and other dangerous places whenever I am in a semi-conscious state. I was rushing through my sweet and sour pork (yum! by the way) and hacking away at my pork shoulder like a professional. Alas, my left index finger was not nimble enough to dodge my oncoming right arm and its weapon O_o and unfortunately, often in life all it takes is 1 mistake for the milk to be spilt and the damage to be done. Good thing for the Withdrawal Reflex though, which saved me from chopping off the tip of my finger and allowing me to escape with disproportionately large quantities of bleeding from my tiny cut instead. Then again, it probably wouldn't have gone through because it was so freaking hard to get it to cut the pork too.

I am starting to suspect that I have a bleeding disorder. My cut had refused to stop bleeding for a good... long while. And had continued to rebleed intermittently even until this morning. I found blood on my pillow too, and my finger was in a plaster. Perhaps I should stop my ginko biloba for a bit.