September 3rd, 2003

flesh

Yeah, mark that one for prosperity...

What a thoroughly unpleasant day. I say day but I really should be more specific and say afternoon and evening as I didn't actually wake up till well after 2pm. I awoke from dreams of being trapped in an airport. It was full of faces from the past and strangers from the future and I awoke with a migraine from the very anus of Satan. Bad, bad pain. All in all: not feeling rested or particularly perky.

I began working at 6pm and cut my finger with the scalpel at a little after 8. It's a hazard of the craft and nothing that hasn't happened before. As per usual I washed and dressed the cut and checked that it wasn't deep enough for stitches; which it wasn't. Anyways, you know that scene in Crocodile Dundee where they get held up in the street and the guy pulls out a knife. Crocodile Dundee says: "That's not knife, this is a knife!" whereupon he pulls out the mother of all knives. Right, well, I was thinking to myself 'wow, that's a pretty bad cut' when I heard a cry from the front door...

Cue the Black Cat, screaming and wailing, spurting blood from a gash in his ear. Now let's not get confused here. When I say spurt, I mean spurt! He's been in fights before but he's never come home looking this bad. I nervously bathed the cut, thankfully it hadn't ripped right through the ear, but the thing just wouldn't stop bleeding. I figured that now was as good a time as any to start panicking. To make matters worse the damn cat kept shaking his head and showering the kitchen with blood...

It eventually stopped bleeding. I calmed the cat down enough to slip a cunningly crafted collar around his neck. He's sleeping now but I know the second he wakes he'll try scratching at the thing so I'm afraid it's a necessary evil:




Kinda brutal looking isn't it. But it works and that's the important thing.

So, with the cat sleeping I set about cleaning up after him. It's amazing just how much blood one sack of fur can carry about with him. I swear there was blood everywhere. It took about two hours washing the walls and carpets and every time I thought it was clean I spotted more. Not fun. I'm definitely not taking a career as 'a cleaner', if you catch my drift.

I was desperate for bath by the time I'd finished and after soaking for twenty minutes I'd had enough and was more than ready for bed. That's when I noticed it. A narsty, partially decomposed spider bobbing about in the bath. Damnation! I had been feeling all clean and shiny but suddenly I felt a might skankier! There was only one thing for it: a shower.

Hmmm, so. Exhausted and still fighting the urge to dose up on codeine I sit here typing this into the great ether that is 'teh interweb'. I ponder who's going to read it and wonder why exactly they should care... yet still I type. Today has been one of those days that no one wants to hear about...


After-thought: as I tried to post this a great sense of relief washed over me as my mind turned to thoughts of bed and freshly laundered sheets... that's when I was told that my server was down for maintenance and that I'd have to try again later. Someone's mocking me, surely :[