I sliced my hand open last night cooking dinner.
I was chopping up a huge thing of ginger that I bought, and my hand slipped and went RIGHT under the knife as it came down. Now I look like I'm about to go practice pugilism in a shady ass gym somewhere. My hand is all wrapped up with gauze and bandages. I bled like a stuck pig. Hooray!
I have a paper to write tonight that's due in nine hours. I have fifteen miles to ride. Allen's girlfriend is coming over, so I have to straighten up downstairs. I have laundry to do. I pretty much just want to take a fucking nap.
BUT!
I went outside this afternoon, and stood right next to a bunny. It made my fucking day. It didn't even run away, it just stood next to me (most people would say that staying still was a fear reflex, but I choose to believe it's because the bunny wanted to be the best of friends with me), and I talked to it and then went back inside.
I'm thinking about writing a story about Alzheimer's. It isn't pleasant, but I would be hard pressed to think of a happy go lucky scenario involving Alzheimer's.
Tomorrow is museum day!!!!!!!!!
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