Two nights ago I was cutting something in the kitchen and the knife slipped and I cut into one of my finger nails. My first thought was to make sure it wasn't bleeding (it wasn't), and then to trim it down so it didn't catch and tear. Then I started thinking about where I would even go now if it had been bleeding and hadn't stopped.

(side note: in grad school in St. Louis I was making a frito pie [don't judge], and while slicing the onions I managed to cut a finger in a way that wasn't painful, but it wouldn't stop slowly bleeding. Direct pressure didn't work, just wouldn't stop - it needed stitches. The on-campus clinic couldn't help, so they referred me to the local emergency room. I had the presence of mind to finish cooking and having dinner, and then my then-crazy-bf and I went to the ER. It took a couple hours to get me to the back and get the 2-3 stitches I needed to patch the slice. In the meantime, while I was in the back getting stitched there was a gang shootout outside the ER, much to the distress of the crazy ex-bf.)

Anywhere I would be likely to go would definitely up my exposure to covid-19, and be likely to take far too long, and take up resources that would be better used for the pandemic. Ugh. It was a sobering thought, and a scary one.