Publicly shaming myself

I am really embarrassed about what I did last night, but because I can still type, I am grateful. Once a month those of us in the house have a business dinner...in our business socks. With slim pickin's in the cupboard and fridge, Mary and I came up with a nice salad of greens and and grapes and raisins and pistachios. To compliment it, we opened a box of butternut squash soup. Though I intended to do some car-shopping, I realized we had no bread products to soak in our soup, so I made buttermilk biscuits. A couple ingredients were substitutes, but the dough still tasted great. After cutting the dough into 21 little circles, I pulled the stoneware out of the oven and another cookie sheet from the cupboard. The biscuits looked so delicious in the stoneware. I stuck the cookie sheet in the oven and reached for the stoneware with my bare hands!!! The HOT stoneware with my naked fingers!! Quickly to the sink I rushed, and my hands soaked a long time in cold, cold water until the water wasn't cold anymore. I couldn't tell where the blisters were, but was willing to wait until my fingers were numb. Oh haste! Down the last two digits of my left pointer finger, I have swollen white blisters. There are a couple other tender spots on my left hand, but no more blisters. My right pointer finger is blistered across the pad, but I can still hold a pencil (since I didn't hold it properly in the first place). The pad of the bone in the palm of my hand is also pretty tender. Oh silliness!!! No flossing for a while. Trying to be careful washing dishes with hot water. Showering is delicate. And I am forever rubbing aloe on to soothe my nerves that cringe now and again. No moral of the story that I know of; I am sure I'll burn myself again one day.