The Universe Deals Sharply With Mrs. HM

What in the Not-Heaven? Mrs. HM is a pretty good egg. If you were to take a peek at her permanent record, you would see that she has never been a ne'er-do-well. In fact, she's been a mostly-do-well. She gives to charity. Holds her tongue. Is polite even to people who don't deserve it. She may not give the shirt off her back to somebody (no one wants to see THAT), but she has been known to give a dollar here and there to 10:00 a.m. alcoholics, and afternoon vapers. Short of refusing to be bullied by that soda-buying grouch into giving up her rightful place in line at the Gas Station Chicken Store, Mrs. HM's behavior recently has been exemplary. For her altruistic efforts, The Universe rewarded Mrs. HM by

SLICING OPEN HER RIGHT INDEX FINGER ON MONDAY NIGHT!

All I wanted was some microwave popcorn. Blast-O-Butter. It's delicious. Takes 2.5 minutes to pop. A nice treat after a week of working on taxes, and paying seven electric bills, and figuring out The Pony's share of flip house expenses. Not to mention making supper for Farmer H, and washing dishes by hand.

I put the bag of popcorn (seeds) into the microwave. Set the timer. Stood and watched, because what else can you do for 2.5 minutes besides lay out Farmer H's vitamin for the next morning? I watched the timer count down. Heard the popping slow. Opened the microwave door, and opened the bag to pour into my bowl. Mrs. HM is not an animal! She does not eat the popcorn right out of the buttery bag.

But no! That bag wouldn't open! I held it by the opposite corners as usual. They wouldn't pull! I tried the other two opposite corners. Nope. I needed to do something fast, before that popcorn burned in the hot bag. I saw a little crack along the top seam. I put my right finger in that slit to widen it. I knew to be careful, because hot steam (as opposed to cold steam, heh, heh) was coming out.

OUCH!

I thought I had burned my finger on the steam. I tried harder, and made a little (bigger) opening. Then the corners worked when I pulled them apart. I poured my popcorn into the bowl. My finger was really smarting. I looked. There was a CUT across my fingertip. Perpendicular to the nail. Blood seeped out. I grabbed a Puffs With Lotion off the counter to staunch the flow.

Do you know how painful it is to eat popcorn with an open cut on your finger? I hope you never find out. The Universe rubbed salt in Mrs. HM's wound! Actually, I rubbed salt into my own wound. But I really wanted that popcorn. I didn't so much want to wash dishes the next morning, or run my damaged finger through my shampooed hair, but I did. Still hurt. As does typing on HIPPIE's keyboard. None of which give me as much pleasure as that buttery popcorn.