So . . . it’s been a while. And, man oh man, do I have some good excuses. I was at the ER 3 times in one week. The first time so they could put me through painful and humiliating tests and then fail to diagnosis my apendicitis. The second time was for more humiliating tests and a correct diagnosis of apendicitis . . . and then a 5 day stay in the hospital. (Side note: after my suregery, because the first ER and then my surgeon messed up, I couldn’t/can’t pee on my own. And let me tell you — there’s nothing that makes a girl feel sexy and confident like a warm bag of your own pee strapped to your leg!) THEN I was back at the ER the day after I got out of the hospital because I couldn’t breathe. THEN our car broke. THEN the house we are trying to sell broke (while people were looking at it) — the AC went out, the downstairs toilet leaked all over the hardwood floors, and the fire alarm was beeping. And then over the weekend our cat got hit and killed by a car.

If any one or two of these things had happened in isolation it would be manageable. Doable. It would be life being life. But all these things at once is a bit much. I know there are people out there in the world – in this country, town, and block – that are experiencing much worse things. Terrible, horrible, inhumane, unimaginable things. And yet . . . I still feel beat up. I feel scared. I feel like something is going to jump out and get me.
While driving, I am certain each and every car is going to hit us. While walking down the block I’m sure I’m going to get side swiped by a truck. Or stung by a bee. At the grocery store the lady in the produce isle in the red tank top with a sequenced cat on it is looking at me funny. I think that she and her sequenced cat are going to push me down and steal my cheese and tomatoes. Somehow it is not reassuring to me that this actually does not happen. On Sunday we took Zoey to a farm to see the animals. I was convinced that the yellow-eyed goat was going to paw at the ground, let lose with a foamy snarl from his mouth, and chew through the fence to attack me with rabid, spiky teeth. Now, as far as I know, goats don’t generally have spikey teeth. Or rabies. Or even exceedingly violent outbursts. And yet . . .
The world just seems to be a dangerous place right now. More so than usual. For now, I’m holding on and going through the motions. For now, I am lucky to have people that love me when I’m a little bit crazy and a little bit scared. And when I have a sexy bag of pee strapped to my leg.

7 thoughts on “>DANGER!

  1. Carla

    >Oh, Jos. I'm so sorry. I just want to hug you and tell you everything's going to be ok. But then I'd probably crack your rib or something. Ugh. It will get better soon. Really.

  2. hambletthouse

    >Finally I find out how horrible your life is! Thank you for the update, and I mean that in the nicest way. Do you want me to call you and use my woolly voice to tell you to hang on? No platitudes…just persistence my sweet and talented friend.

  3. lisamckaywriting

    >I, for one, think it's wise to assume that any goat that big may be very dangerous. Sorry to hear about the terrible, sucky, no good, awful, very bad couple of weeks. PS, I've just looked at the live traffic feed and have figured out that you'll be able to tell when it's me looking at your blog because I show up as a visitor from Vientiane… which is not actually where I am, but they got the right country, at least. I wonder if it registers if I just read your post in google reader?

  4. Anne G

    >So are you saying there is some reason you haven't been writing blog posts lately?:) I hope the universe gives you a break soon. Despite the fact that you may feel scared or crazy or like a model for a medical pee bag supply company, you are a super strong person who has dealt with all the things life has thrown at you so far. So I'm positive you can deal with all this. Maybe even start throwing things back. That would be Zoey's response right? I think we can learn a lot from 2 year olds….


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