Saturday, March 18, 2006

Ahhh. The weekend.

Before the clock hits 8:00 a.m., in the search for vital income tax and legal papers, I chuck out useless wads of outdated paper and I'm feeling pretty darn smug. Following the advice of a friend, I'm dejunking my life, downsizing, improving the feng shui. I will cease to be a mere boarder in an apartment whose actual tenant is self-reproducing stuff.

I cart the stuff triumphantly to the garbage and jam it down firmly, forgetting that earlier I'’ve disposed of a broken glass. I should not have forgotten this because I break a glass approximately every two days, so sharp things shark around the top of my garbage on a regular basis.

After I run cold water and peroxide over my thumb knuckle, trying not to look too closely, I apply three inadequate band aids and attempt to get on with my day. I shower with my hand bagged and rubber banded at the wrist. This is unsuccessful. There is a delay in the proceedings while I try to stop the bleeding again and figure out a way to get dressed without bending my thumb.

Finally,– and not without leaving little red smudges on everything I touch,– I set off to catch the bus. Leaving right on the dot, I almost miss it when it comes early. Run! But I'm wearing clogs, which are determined to slide off my feet at anything over strolling speed. I just make it, show my pass and plunk down red-faced, bloody-handed and gasping.

I have several stops to contemplate the first errand. A notice announcing that an envelope containing photographs is being held for me at the local post office. Actually, two notices, the last one final. I have no idea on earth who is sending me photographs. There is no return address stated on the notice.

Inspired by recent news items on overly enthusiastic and wide-sweeping arrests of people (many innocent) suspected of possessing child pornography, my mind seizes on the idea that some demented stranger has sent illegal photos to the wrong address. My address. What to do? Call the police, I expect. And say what? Good God, would they believe me?

The bus stops, derailing this insane train of thought. Turns out, after I'’ve shopped for groceries and leaked my way home (with better bandages in my shopping bag), the envelope is from Miz T. A letter and not a photograph, but a drawing.

A simple pen and ink line drawing of a naked woman with her hands covering her face - mortified, embarrassed. She has a leaf stuck in unruly hair and is holding an apple between her knees. "A doodle”" she calls it. And she affixes two sticky notes to it.– In one, the woman is thinking, Oh God! How am I going to ride my bicycle and wear white pants? In the other note, Adam speaks from a cartoon bubble: GIVE ME THAT!

Make of it what you will. I'’m still laughing. And adequately bandaged now.


Jess D'Zerts said...

So... just another bloody day in the life then, huh?
Ya gotta love getting art in the mail, especially funny art. It's so much nicer than--well, let me put it this way: it was much better than my mail day.

zhoen said...

Try a paste of cayenne. A friend (of a friend) who works in a reptile house suggested it, and I now use it eveytime I get a cut or scrape. A soak in cayenne spiked warm water works as well. Just be careful not to rub eyes, as you could no doubt figure out.

I'd like to be sent art.

LJ said...

Is it good for gouges? This probably should have had stitches. But I'm grateful to know any found-in-the-kitchen cure. Thanks, Zhoen.
And yeah. It was wonderful to get the drawing. My friend has such an original take on the world and her drawings are real magic.

Mary said...

Oh my goodness, Leaky bandages - doesn't a relatively small amount of blood seems to get absolutely everywhere? And aren't unexpected deliveries like your friend's drawings just magic ...?

I just can't wear clogs but I admire people who can - it's a life skill I haven't acquired yet.

Zhoen is right about cayenne, but I have also tried sprinkling ground black pepper on a minor cut - advice given to me - and that does seem to encourage the blood to coagulate.

On the subject of kitchen cures, a friend gave me an aloe plant for the kitchen windowsill - very good for minor burns and cuts, just break off a bit and put it on the affected area.

Melinda said...

Sounds like a surreal day... bloody, with naked women in the mail.

Hope your Sunday is injury-free.

LJ said...

Har, Jess. "Another bloody day." Yep. Yep.
And surreal too.

But not as bad as the time I tried to knock a tooth out by slamming into the doorframe in the middle of the night.

I have continued clumsy but injury-free, so far today. I've had several near-misses with knives, steam and glasses in the drainer, but I'm being careful now. Due to being out of cayenne. And the bleeding thing.

I continued the naked women theme and spent the day making figures out of polymer clay - for inclusion in the next bead piece. (I was working with a tissue slicing blade. You have NO idea how carefully.)

So now it's nearly six, I'm fed, behind on everything - and have six 1 inch to six inch naked figures sitting on a piece of cardboard on the coffee table.

Thanks all, for visiting & comments.
PS - Mary. I DO have aloe. Just in case.