I can’t recall the last time I got smacked in the mouth hard enough to split my lip. I busted my nose as a high schooler when I caught a knee in the face that busted my nose while grappling with a high school buddy. I’ve had my share of blown knees and busted ankles. But I hadn’t been tagged in the mouth until Sunday afternoon. I was splitting kindling for a fire when a piece shot up and nailed me in the middle of my lower lip. Hard. I felt through the blood to check the damage — and was grateful that I didn’t have to wish for two front teeth for Christmas. I was also grateful that the inside of my lip was gashed and not the outside. It hurt like the dickens but I’d rather have that than go to waste a Sunday afternoon in the emergency room. The accident, of course, fueled my wife’s phobia about my fall passion for wood splitting. She immediately recalled the time that a piece of tamarack that I was splitting bounced across the lawn and nailed our 6-year-old son in the leg. He’s now 28. I’m sure she thinks that I’ll chop off a limb one of these days. Until then, or until the air regulators shut us down, I’ll continue to enjoy wood heat and the exercise that goes with starting a fire. And I’ll stay out of your view until my fat lip recedes.
Question: Have you ever been injured working around the house?