Every time I go into my shop I take a second to consider that most of the
machines in that room are trying to kill me. Even though I'm just an
amateur, I've tried to condition myself to the basic rules such as turning
off and disarming equipment and letting it come to a stop before reaching
near the moving parts. (Those little pull-out arming pins are a pain the
neck and easily lost, but I very nearly turned on my band saw accidentally
with my knuckles pressed up against the band.)

When I was eight or so I watched my dad sacrifice his finger and thumb tips
in a fine red mist to a very sturdy jointer while building our house. (And
he was using a pusher stick just as he'd been taught.) Maybe everyone needs
to be indoctrinated into the reality of power tools at such an early age.
But whenever I'm tempted to be cavalier, I try to think of how stupid I'm
going to look sitting in the emergency room with a bloody towel around my
hand.

Remember, it's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.

--Jay