Thing 1

Ian said our new external hard drive as an ESATA port, which is faster than USB. Here’s how the following conversation went:
Me: What does ESATA stand for?
Ian: External SATA.
Me: What’s SATA stand for?
Ian: Serial ATA.
Me [starting to get a little chagrined]: What’s ATA?
Ian: I’m not sure. [Harnesses the power of the Internet.] AT attachment.
Me: It’s just acronyms all the way down! What’s AT?
Ian: [More Internet harnessing] Advanced technology, from back when IBM made an “AT”-branded computer 1,000 technology years ago.

So, to summarize, the ESATA port is an External Serial Advanced Technologies Attachment. Whew. Technology guys sure do love their acronyms.

Thing 2

While attempting to skewer an avocado pit with a small serrated knife, the knife slipped, went through the avocado, and sliced deeply into my left index finger right by the joint near the palm of my hand (missing, happily, any crucial tendons or nerves). I’m glad Ian was here to help administer first aid, because although it hardly bled at all and didn’t ever hurt much (oddly), I had a full-blown “faint at the sight of blood” reaction, just barely evading actual passing out. But I got nauseous and dizzy, broke out in a cold sweat, and my vision went black with sparkly white stars. After Ian finished administering neosporin and band-aid, I laid down on the kitchen floor and breathed slowly and deeply. I slowly felt better but it took probably an hour to go away completely. Shortly thereafter I went to the urgent care place in Woodinville to get a stitch, if needed, but by the time they saw me the slice had already started sticking together well on its own, so I got my $45 band-aid applied by a real MD and went on my way.

Which has me asking: WHAT THE HECK? I’ve never, ever been squeamish at blood — not other people’s, and not mine. I watched when they took the gallon of blood needed for early-pregnancy tests. Needles don’t freak me out (too much, although I’ll admit I don’t watch them going in). I’ve had other cuts and scrapes and dealt with them with minimal fuss. I’m completely at a loss, puzzled, mystified, mind-boggled as to why this slice affected me so deeply. Once again, I say: What the heck?

Unfortunately, the MD told me I could resume all normal activity, despite my suggestion that perhaps I was unfit for diaper-changing duty. Oh, well.