jodido pero contento
this cuban guy i work with sometimes responds to people who aks how he is by saying "jodido, pero contento": basically, "fucked up, but content."
tonight that is me. earlier i saw the alleycat who i accuse of putting a huge gash in my cat Luisa a couple weeks ago. i cursed at him through my windows, loud, raising my fist, and was about to run out the door to get him when i realized he was already gone. must have heard me.
i ran tonight (you know, like jogging but faster), probably nine miles or so. since i got home i've twice noticed myself giving personal pep talks, trying to get my tired legs up 3 flights of stairs.
the last thing, and the most alarming, is that my vet is on vacation. somehow i need to get my cat's stitches removed soon. i asked a doctor i work with and he not only convinced me i could do it myself, but got me a stitch removal kit.
tonight i took out the tools and laid them all out: a cute little pair of scissors, forceps, gauze, and tiny condiment-packets of antibiotics. the kit is kind of a cross between surgical instruments and very high-end cosmetics tools. there is a possibility that the stitches would bleed a little when i removed them, and just the thought of that already makes me woozy. would a more sane person decide taking medical procedures into their own hands was a good idea?
now i find myself typing notes about my situation. to no-one, really. at midnight. in my underwear.
fucked-up, but content. yeah.
tonight that is me. earlier i saw the alleycat who i accuse of putting a huge gash in my cat Luisa a couple weeks ago. i cursed at him through my windows, loud, raising my fist, and was about to run out the door to get him when i realized he was already gone. must have heard me.
i ran tonight (you know, like jogging but faster), probably nine miles or so. since i got home i've twice noticed myself giving personal pep talks, trying to get my tired legs up 3 flights of stairs.
the last thing, and the most alarming, is that my vet is on vacation. somehow i need to get my cat's stitches removed soon. i asked a doctor i work with and he not only convinced me i could do it myself, but got me a stitch removal kit.
tonight i took out the tools and laid them all out: a cute little pair of scissors, forceps, gauze, and tiny condiment-packets of antibiotics. the kit is kind of a cross between surgical instruments and very high-end cosmetics tools. there is a possibility that the stitches would bleed a little when i removed them, and just the thought of that already makes me woozy. would a more sane person decide taking medical procedures into their own hands was a good idea?
now i find myself typing notes about my situation. to no-one, really. at midnight. in my underwear.
fucked-up, but content. yeah.
previously there was "sense of insecurity"
afterwards you have ex-patria
comments
david
later: i did it. the stitches, i took them out myself. i am a hero.
[submitted on 01 Sep 02]