Wet Stone

I sharpened my knife today. It wasn't dull to begin with, but I had just received a fine Japanese wet stone that I ordered through the mail. When the package arrived at my door, I eagerly cut open the box it was shipped in. With my knife of course.

I soaked the flat, heavy stone in a plastic water basin for a couple hours. While I waited, I flicked open my handy pocket knife again and began cutting up the cardboard box into long, narrow strips. After that, I sliced a piece of printing paper several times to see how dull my blade's edge was getting. It was still quite sharp, but only the first few cuts to the matte white paper sheet were clean and satisfactory.


Lastly, I carefully and slowly ran the edge on my knife down my right forearm, seeing if it would still shave the light patch of hair that remained. I knew it wouldn't. Not as it did earlier, as I waited for the postman to show up.

Now, after knowing that my knife had lost much of its ability to perform to my liking, I continued to wait for the soaking stone to grow heavier as the waters filled its microscopic pores. I could hardly wait to try it out and bring my blade's edge to a sharpness I have never experienced before.