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2:02 p.m. - Thursday, Feb. 12, 2004
Long, miserable, stomach-turning week. It's not bad enough that I'm riding the cotton pony: every night when I come home I have to irrigate Titia's bite wound with a peroxide-based antiseptic, then squeeze out all the liquid. And it does come out. It does, let me tell you. I don't want to try to estimate how much. But it does, and some of it is thick and mucous-like. Absolutely stomach-turning. And I have to do this every night. And then go and tend to my own stomach-turning hemorrhages. And I have a f*cking headache. And I'm f*cking depressed.

And now my f*cking boss gives me more stuff to do, so I have to stop complaining for a little while. Just a little while, I hope.


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