Why I stay indoors

Yesterday, I went outside to split some wood. My tools for the job were an old hatched with a wooden handle and a Stanley Fat Max hammer. So, I stacked two large rounds of wood on top of one another, grabbed a small log, and went to split it. As I was hitting the hammer head on the back of the hatchet, the hatchet was nosing into the wood. Eventually, I hit the hatchet's hammer head with my hammer in just the right way that it ricocheted off the hatchet, up parallel to the length of the handle, and into the side of my index knuckle on my left hand. You'd have thought I'd been shot. Within a second, my entire right side of my hand was covered in blood to the point where it was freely flowing onto the ground. I cleaned it up and looked at it, and the wound is skinnier than a pencil eraser. Mh hand hurts like hell still.

This is why I stay indoors.

(For the record, I sucked it up and went back out there to finish what I was doing. Went out again this morning to split some more.)