|10:57 am - Random junk|
( my inner Slytherin?Collapse )
( What am I talking about?!Collapse )
And finally from ronebofh and lintasare:
Invent a memory of me and post it in the comments. It can be anything you want, so long as it's something that's never happened. Then, of course, post this to your journal and see what people would like to remember of you, only the universe failed to cooperate in making it happen so they had to make it up instead.
|02:01 pm - Hoppie and the bug-bearing garden of death|
So I'm minding my own business, dreaming, when I hear. "Do we have tweezers?"
I think I wake up and mumble something about it being in the first aid kit. I open my eyes and see daylight, but I can't believe how tired I am. I decide I don't actually care what time it is. I'm going back to sleep.
Hoppie says, "Marci, wake up. I need you. This is serious." I open my eyes in reality this time to find hoppie bending over me holding a paper towel to his chest. The lights in the room are on, and the world outside is quite dark. It occurs to me briefly that I must not have been as awake as I thought I was a few seconds before when I thought it was daylight, but there's no time for that now.
Hoppie has managed to pick up a tick. It's about 3:15 in the morning. No wonder I was so fricking tired. He's been trying to remove it, for a bit and his arm is tired and he needs help. Or a pair of tweezers. I know I have a pair in the first aid kit I keep in my car, at least I think I do, but I wasn't going to go there if I could avoid it. So with the alcohol soaked paper towel, we work the tick out of hoppie, gradually. Hoppie speculates that he picked it up Sunday. I muse that it's awfully unengorged for a tick he's been wearing for awhile (research has now shown me it's a male tick. They don't do the cool engorgio trick.). Finally we have most of the tick out, but he just keeps hanging in there. Finally we extract him with a set of needle-nose pliers, and I clean around the wound and apply another layer of alcohol just on princible and the tick gets flushed. We think we got all of him although it seems a leg or maybe part of his pincers broke off, and that had to be extracted separately. And the whole time I kept thinking to myself, you all knew it was a bug-bearing garden of death. You thought I exaggerated the danger, but now you see that maybe I was understating it. We got back to bed around 4:30. It took me a long time to get to sleep. But when I did, I didn't have any nightmares.
I want to talk next about the joys of AIM forwarding to a cellphone, but I really need to get back to my work for now.
Current Mood: sleepy
Current Music: "You could Drive a Person Crazy"