Saturday, April 9, 2005

blood and gore... and blood with no gore... only blood really

I cleaned my car today! I worked a grueling 8 hour day doing abso-fucking-lutely nothing, then went home and cleaned up my car. I threw away all the gas receipts, took in the SIX (yes I said six) sweaters, FOUR pair of shoes, two coats, couple of books and too many water bottles to count. I vacuumed the seats and floors, dusted, cleaned the windows, then I washed it! (Enter somewhat random visual of Mag). I went all the way: I had a bucket of soapy water, a bunch of rags, a hose, and my ass in a pair of short shorts. Then la da da da da (we’ll skip the part about me scrubbing off month old squished bug guts), I was finished! It was cleaned inside and out, dried and looking spiffy. Afterwards I walked back inside the house to put everything away and go to take a shower. There is no feeling worse than bug-guts on your arms, cut grass stuck to your legs and wet mulch between your toes. But as I reach our dining room I look down and see this red drop of blood on the floor. I look around for more and there was a little trail of it leading back into the kitchen. Of course I have to follow. I walk back through the dining room, into our kitchen, and by following the blood, out the door and down the outside steps. I had walked just about half of the way down to our garage when my father stopped and asked me what I was doing. I told him about these little drops of blood in the house. He looked at me for a minute then grabbed my hand. Oh! There it was. Apparently I slashed my finger on the sharp underside of my car, and didn’t even know it. It’d been bleeding all over everything but I didn’t notice it. My hands were wet with soap and water, I didn’t even feel the blood. But I see it now. It even ruined my cute pair of short shorts.

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