une phobie de couteau

A couple days ago, I broke my one and only paring knife.
Since then I had been using a chinese cleaver to cut fruits and veggies in great difficulties -- just imagine cutting off the core of an apple with this beast.
Went out to buy a replacement this afternoon.

As I stared at the wall of knife at Bed Bath & Beyond an uneasy feeling emerged.
I couldn't stand looking at them.
Wondered how I got all the knives the first place.
Seemed like I'd never bought one.
The serrated, the paring, and the cleaver came from the old apartment, I guessed one of my ex-roommates bought them.
And the santoku was bought by my mother when I was in Paris.
Hmmmph! I could wait for my mother to arrive but I couldn't guarantee I'd still have all the body parts by then.

Anyway, my first pick was 4" one, small, affordable, looked very sharp.
It scared me eventhough it was wrapped in plastic with no way of escaping.
Then I looked around a little more.
There was more in a glass case, more professional ones.
I saw one slightly curved between the handle and the blade.
Seemed saver, 3.5", $5 more, settled with that.
The sales lady helped me to get it off the case and wrote on a piece of paper to picked up the knife at the register.
Great! I'm not even sure I'll make it to the register without hurting myself.

I was happy when I got home alive.
Just hated to be surrounded by gleaming blades.
Once a friend asked why my knives were dull..
I just couldn't make myself sharpen one!