Our Kitchen hates me!

I'm convinced! Seriously. Every time I venture in there and stay for longer than 5 minutes to cook or bake anything - I either almost chop off a finger, grate my knuckles, burn myself on the oven, stove, or anything that screams HOT! My darling man says it is because I'm not careful enough and rush in where fools fear to tread. I disagree! I simply think the Kitchen hates me and favours him. I've got the scars and the plaster wrapped around my thumb to prove it. He is bruise, burn, cut and scrap free. And he likes to drink and cook. Yup! He is a regular Floyd in the kitchen. I, mostly, restrict my drinking to when I'm actually partaking of the food I've cooked or watching my gorgeous Master Chef in the making cook a famous dish of his own creation.
I've tried to tell him I should for my own safety be barred from the kitchen and most definitely from participating in any kitchen related activities. I can make tea, coffee, pour him a whiskey, turn on the dishwasher... but I must be quick. His response- he chuckled and said 'Yes Dear'.
All fun and games till I lose a thumb. I'd be screwed if I ever needed to hitch a ride to nowhere or pop a cork off a bottle of champagne. What would ol' Chuckles do then? I mean a girls charm can only get her so far. She most certainly needs a good pair of opposable thumbs for when the going gets a little corky or she ever wants to play the piano again.

I bid you goodnight. Hope tomorrow brings you peace and happiness.

P.S I know I've been gone a few days but I was in Paris for 5 of them. I'll tell you all about that another time. I love Paris.