Entitling me to once again be an insensitive jerk. Get a job, hippies!
As far as budgeting goes, I will be
able to pay back all my loans within a year or so. Even taking out
loans for the vet tech program, I'll be debt-free by age 27 or 28,
which isn't terrible, considering that some people pay them off well
into their thirties. I wish I could do it faster, though. I hate being in debt.
Jonathan is still with us and I'm
officially starting to look forward to getting my house back. He's a
cool guy but socialising in general takes me out of my comfort zone
and I'd like to be able to wander around in the kitchen naked
whenever my self-esteem gets low, à la Liz Lemon. Jonathan is
overall a decent houseguest who cooks, does dishes, and doesn't at
all make a nuisance of himself. If we had a proper spare bedroom I
wouldn't mind if he stayed indefinitely; part of the problem is that
our house is only one bedroom and the “spare bed” happens to be
in the living room.
He didn't even complain about the raccoon nest.
Jonathan took us to 6 Flags by way of
being nice and put me on a roller coaster called “Goliath.” (Go ahead and look it up. I'll wait.)
This was great because:
This was great because:
- Everyone got to see me have a panic attack.
- I learned what fear feels like.
I ended up making an enormous ass of
myself. Turns out I really don't like roller coasts. I also got
suckered into going on one called Colossus in the hope that my terror
on Goliath was just a mistake. Turns out I don't make mistakes and
my phobia was 100% legit. Jonathan was pretty cool about it,
considering that he'd taken us there to have fun and I spent most of my time
weeping inconsolably.
Other than that I suppose I don't have
much to report. Oh, one thing. Two days ago, I joined the exclusive club of
people who have seen their own skull.
The club has really strict dress-code rules, which is why Skeletor still hasn't been allowed to join.
It was about midnight, Andrew and I were hanging out, and I fell out of bed. Fortunately I managed to break the fall with my face.
I was wearing an outfit similar to this at the time but that's not actually relevant to the story;
that's just a standard Monday night for us.
“Are you okay?” asked Andrew.
“I think so,” I said, because I didn't yet realise my skull was attempting to escape my head, probably because of the massive head injury I'd just gotten.
He gave me a
look of horror, and that's when I noticed blood was dripping from my
head and streaming down my face.
Inexplicably, I managed to slice (yes,
that is the best possible verb for it, although “lacerate” is a
close second) open my face, just above my left eye, on a completely
clear, blunt floor. How one gets a cut from blunt trauma is beyond
me. The cut looks like a knife wound, and here's the best part: it
goes all the way down to the bone. I confirmed this by doing what all doctors say you should do when you receive a deep cut: peel back the two parts of the cut and check that sucker out so that you can brag about seeing your skull later.
We taped it shut because my benefits
don't officially activate until May. I'll probably have a wicked
cool scar. The weirdest part is that it didn't really particularly
hurt. My head has been throbby, but it's not even quite as bad as a
migraine. I took one Tylenol yesterday and that was it. Personally I think evolution must have goofed up if you can crack open your head like an Easter egg and not even notice, but one of my FaceBook friends offered up this explanation:
"If your head is opened up chances are you know (helps when blood is literally flowing into your eyes!), and rather than nagging you with pain, evolution keeps your head clear so you can get away from whatever just ripped your head open."
"If your head is opened up chances are you know (helps when blood is literally flowing into your eyes!), and rather than nagging you with pain, evolution keeps your head clear so you can get away from whatever just ripped your head open."
Speaking of Easter eggs, by the way... for this year's Easter, we built the rabbit a hutch
using an old television stand. The cage is on top of the little cabinet, but
there's a hole in the bottom and a ramp going down into the cabinet. It looks like the cage is just resting on top of the stand but it's actually all one piece of furniture now. Watching the rabbit materialise from seemingly nowhere is fun if you're poor and easily amused (which we are!)
No word from the neighbours, though I'm
sure they're pissed about my getting a head injury at midnight.
(“She's always BANGING AROUND over there, getting MILD CONCUSSIONS,
without even considering that we're trying to SLEEP. So rude.”)
"Now she's screaming in the bathroom! Now she's growling loudly and there's lots of crunching!
HEY, KEEP IT DOWN OVER THERE!"
HEY, KEEP IT DOWN OVER THERE!"
Today is the last day of my
house-sitting for our neighbour, Elizabeth. She has a cool house
from 1906 and is one of those people who composts and has a
subscription to Scientific American. I hope to be like her someday:
first of all, cool. Second of all, hot. Third, a home owner with a
koi pond. Not to mention how friendly she is. She told me she's
scared of roller coasters, too, so maybe there's something (positive)
to be said about people who have that particular aversion.
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