Eight Reds and Five stitches
Hit the north bank of Mud Point (V-Bay) this AM, flinging flies. Released the first three - one too small, two too big. Kept the next five and went home all smug and happy.
Cleaned four and half of the fifth, the knife then slipped, and I had to call Barb away from her job to take me to the ER. Couldn't drive myself. Five stitches (Along with two Coors, half a bottle of Shiraz, and two cigars) later the blood all over the kitchen has been cleaned up - both mine and the reds, and all is well.
Sort of - had to cancel a trip tomorrow AM. That's hard to do when you finally get on 'em! :(
Pete
Oh, the moral of this tale?
Sure glad the filet knife wasn't electric!