...unless it spilled because the glass broke and sliced your pinky finger! Yes, that was me on Saturday night, the day before I left Brazil. I was washing dishes while Joaquim and his cousin Samuel were barbequeing some meat (classic...) and while washing a glass, it shattered. My first reaction was just surprise, and then I stared at my finger, wondering if I had cut myself. "I'm ok! I'm ok!" quickly turned to "I cut myself! I cut myself!" At that point Joaqum walked into the kitchen again and found me holding my finger, demanding a cloth or paper towel or something. He gave me a couple squares of toilet paper, which I clamped over my finger, and from that point on I didn't even look at it.
Judging by the fact that it is still bandaged and puffy, I probably could have used some good old fashioned stitches. At that point, though, I refused. I've never been to a hospital in Brazil and...wouldn't really like to. I'll have to reconcile with that someday, but it was not the time!
Poor Joaquim was so worried about me. My last night, and I injure myself and bleed all over the place. (That's not true, there was really hardly any blood...) Then he had to say goodbye to me and let me go by myself through three different airports with two large bags. He was not happy about that! It was a sad goodbye, but thankfully it was the LAST one, and my last time traveling alone.
The next time I set foot on an airplane, I will be Mrs. Christine Fragoso, heading to Hawaii with my husband! Holy moley............................................
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