It is by far the sharpest knife in the kitchen and it has been great at almost everything I throw at it. However, sometimes I feel that it knows when I either am not taking it seriously enough or if I am using its abilities for something not worth its ability. The first time it seriously bit me was when I was sharpening it for the first time. To test whether it is sharp enough, you take the knife and try to cut through paper without any effort. The knife was definitely sharp enough, but sometimes I get obsessive about things and started to whack at the paper, seeing how fast I could slice through the paper. Unfortunately, the more I hacked, the closer I got to my finger. Inevitably, I chopped right into my left index finger. I think I hit bone, it hurt so much. In fact, it hurt all night! Anyway, it has been a while since I have seriously cut myself. Last night, I was cutting cucumbers for a salad and again my sanke bit me. I think it was protesting this time that cucumbers were not worthy of its cutting prowess. I guess I was thinking about other things and before I knew it, I had sliced into my left index finger (again). My knife is such a cruel mistress. If it weren't so darned useful, I would toss it out the window.
I hate cutting my fingers, especially on my left hand, because it stops me from playing my guitar. My guitar and I have a relationship too, but it has never bit me. In fact, when I think about how I need to treat my good friends, I think about how my guitar treats me. It loves to spend time with me, always giving me its best. Maybe it knows that without me, its just a piece of furniture (not a very functional one at that). It comforts me, watches tv with me, and plays with my daughter. Sometimes, I neglect it or treat it wrongly and I feel bad, but it never seems to mind or hold a grudge. It just sits on its stand waiting patiently for the day that we get to spend time together again. The strings may get out of tune and dust gets on it, but it knows that with a little tuning and a bit of dusting, things are great again. When I do something stupid, like cut my finger, I realize how much I miss my guitar. What a great friend my guitar is. I hope that I can be that way to my friends. I realize that without my friends, Im just a piece of furniture (not a very functional one at that).
Its amazing what falls out of my brain when I have time to think. And no, you still can't have your 5 minutes back...its the implied risk of reading someone else's crud. I guess the moral to this drivel is that we need to be friends to others in the mold more like the guitar than the knife...or maybe that we sometimes need to be more comforting than useful...or maybe that I need more sleep.
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