Found it (and lessons in why you shouldn't stick needles into couches)

The needle was found literally minutes after I posted about it yesterday! I'd been on the phone to Sean, who was home sick for the day, sadly telling him the news and he called me right back to say the following.

'What does the needle look like?

'It's silver.'

'And?'

'Pointy.'

Laughing, 'Yes, and?'

'It's short.'

'Yes, but is it sort of fat?'

'Yes! It's a 2.75mm!'

He'd found it, partially hidden by the lap top on the couch. Amazing. I mustn't have had it on the bus at all - I was up the heel of a sock at that point and wasn't using all of them anyway.

The really awful thing about this story is that two weeks ago, I did something terrible with a needle. I left it stuck in the couch right where Sean sits.

Shall we say, that event, which I'll spare you all the details of (and the pain of reminding Sean) could have been a lot more horrific than I can bear to think about. I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about what might have been (and no doubt, so does he, but we decline to discuss it).

Fortunately, the needle this time wasn't protruding from the couch cushion, but it was there all the same.

'I thought you weren't going to leave your needles on the couch anymore? he said.

So did I. So did I.

I struggle every day to be a better person. One day, I'll get there and Sean will be safe from DPNs.

Bells