I smashed my finger in the back door leading to the deck while protecting something more important, a fresh glass of red wine.
The pain was intense. The blood was gushing madly. A serviette was handy but the blood-letting would not cease, regardless of how many times I daubed it on the reddening napkin.
The wine stopper was a later addition as I struggled to stop the bleeding. And I was now idling, waiting for the cessation of the blood flow.
Not too bad.