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A bad wedge of week in three slices - #3
Mar. 1st, 2004 12:35 pmcont...
Paul drug me home from the doctor's office with a battlement of drugs and shot in my ass that was causing mildly pleasant swooning.
It had stopped the puking in short order, so at that point it could have made me grow thick curly chest hair and I would have been satisfied with it.
The next two days were spent in bed with newspapers and magazines spread liberally on the comforter. My first attempt at normal functioning in an upright position was to feed and water my parakeet.
I had noticed her attitude had gotten considerably better as of late. There was an incident two weeks ago when she had drawn blood during a cage cleaning, but I took that as moodiness associated with startling her. Had I been suddenly awakened from a dream where I freely soared the skies, by getting hit with a mirrored Chinese plastic pagoda with a bell attached, I would have been reasonably pissed as well.
She must have sensed my frailty that day, stepping onto my index finger and gingerly cleaning my cuticles. When I slid the cage door shut she rang exactly like the telephone.
The next morning I was enjoying finally feeling like I could walk around without the effect like I had roamed the desert for forty days.
Paul suddenly called from the living room that the bird was bleeding.
( I ran in to examine her and with a half laugh pronounced that she was in fact - laying an egg. )
Paul drug me home from the doctor's office with a battlement of drugs and shot in my ass that was causing mildly pleasant swooning.
It had stopped the puking in short order, so at that point it could have made me grow thick curly chest hair and I would have been satisfied with it.
The next two days were spent in bed with newspapers and magazines spread liberally on the comforter. My first attempt at normal functioning in an upright position was to feed and water my parakeet.
I had noticed her attitude had gotten considerably better as of late. There was an incident two weeks ago when she had drawn blood during a cage cleaning, but I took that as moodiness associated with startling her. Had I been suddenly awakened from a dream where I freely soared the skies, by getting hit with a mirrored Chinese plastic pagoda with a bell attached, I would have been reasonably pissed as well.
She must have sensed my frailty that day, stepping onto my index finger and gingerly cleaning my cuticles. When I slid the cage door shut she rang exactly like the telephone.
The next morning I was enjoying finally feeling like I could walk around without the effect like I had roamed the desert for forty days.
Paul suddenly called from the living room that the bird was bleeding.
( I ran in to examine her and with a half laugh pronounced that she was in fact - laying an egg. )
