As pretty much anyone, and most importantly my wife, will tell you, I am not exactly a culinary genius. I used to joke that I could fix any meal you wanted, so long as it was cold cereal or toast.
Well, it turns out at least one of those options got the best of me:
This was the Purple-Heart-Worthy injury I sustained while taking out a bagel from our toaster oven this morning. I'm still a bit shocked, mostly because 1) it didn't really hurt; 2) I have been toasting bagels in there for upwards of six months and have occasionally carelessly bumped the oven with nary a scratch; and 3) the size of the wound is remarkably larger than the point of contact.
Or I assume so, anyway. To be fair, this occurred approximately twenty minutes after I woke up, which is still within the zone of general haziness and crank when I wake up. I probably was wantonly swinging my fist around the toaster oven like a five-year-old with his sack of Halloween candy, hoping that statistics would eventually compel me to create a breakfast sandwich. Instead, I got a checkbox on my hand. Here is an awesome close-up:
My wife said it looks like I was at an amusement park at Hogwarts, and it's hard to disagree. Anyway, for those keeping score at home: Stephen 0, Toaster Oven 1.