Ten minutes. Let’s play this out and see what happens.
Tonight I made thai chili, which was near-disasterous on any number of fronts. It turned out to be an absolutely gargantuan recipe intended to feed the entire crew of an aircraft carrier, which meant that a lot of vegetables had to meet some slicin’ and dicin’. In the mayhem of knife wielding and onion weeping and terror-alert panicking I sliced the bitty tip off my left thumb. I saw to it that the flesh didn’t make its way into the pot, lest I insult vegetarians with my tainted vegetarian thai chili.
All in all, I fared better than one of my snowboarding students did, yesterday. We were pulling a short run, from "the clump of trees to the chairlift." He fell on his arse, managing to break his tailbone, wrist, back, skull, pride, bread, etc. There’s nothing like standing with your class, watching one of your kids get carted away to Ski Patrol on a sled behind a snowmobile. My fellow instructors were a tad bit concerned for me:
"You doing OK, Dane?"
"It’s not your fault, man. Don’t worry about it."
"I’m not worried."
"It’s a sport. People are gonna get hurt, ya know?"
"…you seem rather calm."
"I worked at a summer camp."
"Oh. I see."