Who Needs The Force When They've Got BandAids?

So yesterday, I helped my aunt prep for a shower for my soon-to-be sister-in-law, Carolyn. We had a blast. But it was a TON of work- cooking and cleaning from 10am until the party, at 6:30. And even though there were a lot of laughs in that period, there were also a couple moments of intense frustration. Like when I jammed my finger in the turntable, and it started to bleed. Really? Why? So I winced and huffed my pain and frustration, and asked my aunt where the bandaids were. She directed me to the bathroom drawer, where I found these:

Awesome right? Next thing you know, I'm wearing this guy on my poor, cut finger:

Can't you just hear the hum of the lightsaber?

Any frustration that had been there was gone. Every time I looked down at my hands, Obi-Wan was there, defending my finger against The Dark Side. How could I be grumpy with space hero winking up at me all the time? I think I'm gonna go buy my own box...