Last night [since it's technically this morning now] I learned something new about myself. I had one of those events that change how you view yourself and your abilities.

April was getting ready to go up to Fuckwit's room to hang out, when she smacked her toe on the [metal] bed frame trying to get her shoes. She yelled to me, saying she cut herself. I went over, and it really didn't look that bad. There was a cut, it was swelling, but it looked fine.

Until she moved her hand, which happened to be coated in blood that is. I mean coated. I ran to get kleenex, and she mopped her toe while I mopped the floor. She was in hysterics, half laughing, half crying while crouched down and flailing and seeping blood at a scary rate.

I reacted right away, getting her to lay on the floor and putting her foot up on the computer chair while I applied pressure with a ratty bloody kleenex. I've never taken any form of first aid except for that babysitting course in the 6th grade, in which we learned how to perform CPR on plastic babies. I just somehow knew what to do, and I did it efficiently and calmly.

April and I joked that maybe my true calling was a nurse, and that I should switch progams. Alas, I don't think my 54% in grade 11 Biology would work in my favour.

And besides, next time anything like this happens I can just look it up. Like the good little library technician I [almost] am.