You Can’t Sweep That Under The Carpet

(My flatmate and I have to replace a damaged carpet in the flat. We have lifted it up and are cutting it up to throw away. I am notoriously accident-prone and, as a result, my flatmate does not trust me with anything even remotely risky and often warns me to be careful. Despite this, I am the one in charge of using the Stanley knife as I have used one before. She has already given me several warnings about safe use.)

Me: *mumbling* “Hmm, there’s not really a good way to sit. Okay, I’ll cut slowly so that I don’t hit my leg.”

Flatmate: “WHAT?”

Me: “Huh? Oh, sorry, I was talking to myself there.”

Flatmate: “Are you going to injure yourself?”

Me: *exasperated* “No! I was actually thinking about the safest way to do this. I have a sharp knife so there’s always a risk of injury but I’m thinking of how *not* to hurt myself.”

Flatmate: “Fine, but be careful.         ”

Me: “Will do.” *I pick up the edge of the carpet* “Right, cutting time.”

Flatmate: “Actually, maybe I could just rip it…”

(Just as I start to slice through the carpet, my flatmate holds up the edge, right in the line of where my knife will be in roughly three seconds.)

Me: “Woah!” *I jerk my arm upwards, narrowly missing her hand*

Flatmate: “Huh? Oh, s***, I didn’t see—”

Me: “Okay. You do not put your hand on the carpet when I’m cutting it. This knife is sharp, okay? I could have seriously injured you then. Never do something like that when there’s a knife involved, especially if there’s a chance I won’t see you. Got it?”

Flatmate: “…sorry. You’re right. That was so stupid of me and I’m lucky you saw what I was doing when you did.”

(I never received another lecture on safety again.)