All is well -- All is well.

Okay -- I walked into the kitchen and my husband was holding his hand over the sink. His finger was bleeding and he was squeezing it shut so it would stop bleeding. I ran over and got a wet paper towel for him to put on it and he says to me ... "Honey? Can you put that piece of bread in the oven for me?"

We both just started laughing, because you need to know how much my husband loves food to appreciate that comment. As it turns out, he did not need stitches, but the wound was pretty yucky and deep. Lesson learned (which I thought he would have learned from the last time I sliced my finger with the same knife) is -- don't cut bread (especially stale French Bread) while holding it in your hand. Bad. Very bad. Cut it on a cutting board. Novel idea!

So here's how the past hour and a half went: look at cut; bandage cut with gauze, tape, and neosporin; put bread in oven (I'm just nice like that); go get crying baby that is now awake; give baby bath; baby vomits in bath; put jammies on baby; go down to change tight bandage so finger can have blood circulation again; feed baby; baby vomits - again; change baby into fresh jammies, rock baby for a long time. Put baby into crib. Go down to update blogging friends that husband isn't dead and find husband back on the computer (now he's dead meat). Fight over using computer; ask husband how he can possibly type with hurt finger; husband informs me that it's a 'sissy cut' not a 'manly cut'; I win fight and get to finish blog.

No wonder I'm so tired.

Going to go put my jammies on and go to bed now. Nighty night, sleep tight.