Nicked floor (in the nick of time)
So there I was, cutting apart the Costco salmon fillet that I had just taken out of the oven.
When I came back from Kansas City at Christmas, my mom took 6 individually vacuum-packed frozen fish and stashed them in various corners of my suitcase – and these precious little gems have been carefully rationed for the past 3 months. This was my last one. I had already prepared a fresh, leafy, green salad, and was slicing up the salmon to crown the top.
Unfortunately, I was feeling a little loosy-goosy.
And before I knew it, the knife FLIPPED out of my hand, cart-wheeled through the air in the most rapid slow-motion known to man – and, with the speed of a feline (and the instinct of a genius), I jumped sideways, flinging my legs and arms wide.
Jesus loves me, this I know:
The knife – BOOOOOING – landed tip-first in the hardwood floor. RIGHT WHERE MY FOOT HAD BEEN ONE SECOND EARLIER.
Good thing Mel was right there, always prepared with her camera. I did not move. This was the moment, LIVE.
Oh my word, I need medical insurance.