I cut my pinkie finger this morning 
opening up a package. Sliced right into the tender meat with a cheap pair of kitchen scissors. But just because you cut your widdle fingah doesn’t mean the work stops, and good luck transcribing that 2000-word excerpt with a Band-Aid on one digit. Might as well wear garden gloves. Now, my laptop looks like a Stephen King movie, which is awesome. Blood on the keys: This is not a metaphor.