A couple of weeks ago, I burnt my finger pretty badly while I was cooking. (Full disclosure: I was making a glaze for a rum cake and wanted to taste the glaze, so I put a little on the spoon and then went to dip my finger into what was on the spoon to taste. This works fine for, say, hot dogs and beans. It does not work for melted butter, which is, of course, oil. The pain was instantaneous and brutal. I also got to keep saying over and over to medical professionals that I stuck my finger in hot butter when they asked what happened. But I digress.)
So anyway, my finger is finally starting to heal and I may even have a fingerprint again some day soon.
When I was cooking dinner last night, I went to pour out the boiling water from the pasta. In doing so, I managed to splash some of the boiling water on my chest. (Full disclosure: the water wasn’t draining fast enough so I thought turning on the garbage disposal might help. [Don’t ask me why I do these things.] Anyway, the water from the sink is what actually splashed up on me, so I guess I learned a very valuable lesson. But, again, I digress.)
As I finished making dinner with a bag of frozen string beans sitting on my chest, I made the very reasonable declaration that I was never cooking again.