A short while ago, I had an upsetting experience that raised a question that I really need answered.
The other day, while I was in my shop testing the fit of a dado joint, I got the mother of all slivers stuck in the fat part of my thumb, so I went to the first-aid kit to get the tweezers. Well, when I started to dig around for the sliver, my thumb started to bleed. When that happened, I got sick to my stomach, and then I fainted. (Even though I have never been the least bit queasy about blood in my life!) Apparently, not that I remember it happening, I hit my head on the edge of my jointer's bed as I fell. This put a pretty nasty laceration across my forehead. After I regained consciousness, I stood up and tried to figure out just exactly what happened, and while I stood there, the blood from my forehead spurted all over the top of my table saw. When I saw the blood on my table saw, I got faint-headed and passed out again! Luckily, this time around I just kinda slumped down and ended up face-first in a large pile of sawdust. When I came to my senses, the congealed blood on my face and forehead had formed a sort of mask, covering my whole face. Naturally, I thought I had gone blind. So I stumbled towards where I thought the door of my shop should be and, by a sort of miracle, managed to find my way outside. But when I emerged from my shop in my weakened condition, weaving aimlessly and with my cries for help muffled by a huge clotted mass of blood and sawdust, the neighbor's dog noticed my very odd behavior and became disturbed and attacked me, grabbing my pants leg in its mouth while growling and pulling furiously on my pants. Well, I've lost a bit of weight lately, and the dog managed to pull my trousers completely off. That was when my neighbor, Phoebe, stuck her head out of the door to see what was getting her dog all worked up. So, here is my question ... am I really too old to be wearing Speedo® underwear, or is Phoebe just overly sensitive?