Maybe It's Just January...

Last time I blogged, one of my cats was dying. Today, I have four stitches in my foot and I was an hour late to work because they started early. (I should've known they would, because Monday was a holiday and it always takes a day for the "storm surge" of holiday drop-offs to hit shipping, but for some reason I blanked on it. Having to deal with four stitches in one's foot can do that to ya...)

Maybe I should relate the Foot Story.

Once upon a time, one week ago today, I was on my way through the basement when the dog got in my way. This not being an unusual occurrance, I found myself unsuprised to be diverted into one of the piles of Other People's Stuff to either side of my path. I noticed, upon placing my foot down, that it hurt more than usual - "not at all" being usual. But, then, as I said, dogs diverting one into someone else's Stuff is not an unusual occurrance, and a body's bound to get the odd scrape now and again. But this scrape didn't go away. Eventually, I looked down and saw the blood.

"Oh," I said,"that explains the pain."

Up the stairs, to the bathroom with the working plumbing, and I hose off my foot in the tub. And keep hosing. And keep hosing. And the water stays disturbingling pink. At length, I braved a look... and wished I hadn't. A nice, long, quarter-inch-deep gash now graced the bottom of my formerly whole left foot. Now, I could still feel my toes, and nothing was spurting, and I didn't see bone or anything, but this was distinctly Not Good. I bound it up as best I could, and thought about it for a while, then broke down and went to the local walk-in clinic. Four hundred odd dollars later (still no health insurance - joy...), I hobbled out with four stitches and orders to keep off it as much as possible for a couple days. So I blew my shot at a year of perfect attendence at work by having to miss Thursday and Friday, capped by being an hour late today.

At least it was a clean cut.

Hmm... maybe I shouldn't have related the Foot Story. It's rather boring if you're not the one with the stitches in her feet. (They come out next week... Wednesday, in theory, though if I can push it to Friday I will. I've had bad experiences with sutures being removed too soon, and wouldn't 2008 just love another shot at me...)


In other news, I got an unusual request. I've recently joined a new message board, because I always find myself in need of new ways to fritter away time. Shortly thereafter, I got a PM from one of the members asking about commissions. They want line art, a fair whack of it, and are willing to pay.

My initial reaction was: Me? Why me? I'm a total stranger, and besides, I'm not a real artist.

Then I remembered that, sitting in the other room, is a check. A check I received for art I had created - the drum ornaments mentioned previously - which other people had deemed worthy of their money.

Oh. I guess I am an artist, after all...

So now I'm debating what to say: how deep I want to get into someone else's project, and more importantly what a decent rate for line art is.

I wish 2008 would make up its mind what kind of year it was going to be. I'm getting awfully sick of being jerked around like this.

Another One to Rainbow Bridge...

To: 2008

Re: My previous blog entry

To Whom It May Concern,

When I rashly issued the declaration "Okay, 2008, let's see what ya got," I was not, in fact, challenging you to bring on your worst. I did not, for instance, intend for you to give one of my cats a mysterious, rapidly-growing lump on his neck. Nor did I intend to have to sit in the break room at work and hear some Very Bad news from the vet. I certainly did not intend to have to sit all weekend watching my cat purr and play and eat and sleep while my stomach clenched and my chest ached waiting for a biopsy result which I hoped against hope against hope would tell me something I didn't already know.

I dreamed of rainbows this weekend. Bright, beautiful rainbows in the sky. I hoped it was a good sign, a message that everything would be alright and I would get good news and Arty would get a few more years to purr and play and eat and sleep.

But, no, 2008, it was just you playing with me again. Because I just got off the phone with the vet and there are no miracles this year, there is no reprieve, and that ugly, evil, horrible lump on your neck, Arty, really is strangling you, killing you, and now I'm sitting here watching you sleep and I know I'll have to wake you up and take you to the vet so you can sleep forever beyond Rainbow Bridge and I can't even do that right, I can't even take you down there while you're asleep because I don't even have the car to do it. Mom has my car, and I don't know where she is and when she'll be back and in the meantime I'm crying and sitting and watching and hoping you don't wake up, hoping you don't want a purr or a belly rub because I don't think I could take it.

So, 2008, I demand to speak to your manager. I demand a refund or a replacement. Because this is not the new year I ordered.

Thank you for your time.

- BrightDreamer