cheating

ummmmm... i don't know if this is allowed. but I'm gonna link to my friend's blog, to my favorite entry so far. I hope it's allowed. If not, i'm sure she won't hesitate to tell me to change it. Here it is anyway, my favorite blog entry.

my word for today is suture... it popped into my head when I spelled sure wrong while typing above, and it occurred to me that I like that word. even better than stitches & scalpel.

while constructing shelves for an elderly lady yesterday, she told me about her day to day life, which is her habit when I do work for her. after finishing, I always try to find the shortest path to the door and get out. something about that place makes me uneasy, but I can't say no when she asks me to work for her. She was telling me about how she was going to rearrange her bookshelves & office desk & other furniture in this room (where I doubt she spends 4% of her time currently. A thought came to me, that I was ashamed of, that really, why rearrange this room... why, when first of all, you never come in here, and when you die (here's where I feel bad) which will most likely be soon (how can I be so mean) what will it matter where your stuff is. Really, I have this same philosophy about a lot of things, not just when things concern an elderly lady. I guess the philosophy seems more pronounced when someone is so close to the other end of life. What would you do, if given the choice of going out for fun & games, perhaps bingo or just going out to eat, or rearranging a room where all your kids' old belongings & your 20 year old bills are stored? I'd go play bingo, or something. That's pretty much what I do now. I mean, I don't play bingo, much, but I go out instead of working around the house. I don't know ,I'd rather be having fun.

Here's what I meant to say at the beginning of writing this: she told me about her daughter's foot and how the bones have somehow seemed to have transposed themselves, and so one is on top of the other where it should be the other way around. ummm that was painful to listen to. it really bothered me, especially because I had thought I was out the door when she started the story. in fact, my hand had turned the doorknob when she began, and the inner struggle created by my impulse to just leave and my conscience telling me to stay and feign interest... I was torn... I hate medical stories where bones are broken or ligaments are torn or ankles, wrists or whatever is sprained. damaged appendages are hard for me to think about without being squeamish.

I made it out alive, and I was sure she watched me get into my car, where she noticed I had a Kerry-Edwards sticker on my bumper. That probably hurt her. I would live with that... if the pain caused her to find a more conservative house-hand.