Husband got sick, I cared for him.
Small and Medium got sick, I cared for them.
I got sick, everyone left. Isn't that how it usually works?
If I wasn't such the white trash flatlander, the next accident wouldn't have happened, or is it if I wasn't such the white trash flatlander the accident could have been worse?
I run around barefoot all the time. Only putting boots on when I must. I have been this way since I was a child. The other day I was in the porch/bunker and felt a prick on the bottom of my foot. Felt like a sticker (long horn burr), but only just stuck. So I wiped the bottom of my foot off on the step, typically this will dislodge a precariously held sticker. But that didn't work, and the spot began to burn. Slowly, I could feel it burying itself into the bottom of my foot. Almost a perfect circle of physical pain. I sat down quickly and dug my fingernails into the spot, seeing nothing that would be doing this. I grabbed the Bactine spraying the spot and cooling it off. Turns out I had stepped on a hot ember that had jumped out of the fire as I had tossed on a log. First, good thing the floor is dirt, and second, my feet are so calloused that within a few hours no damage was detected. The callouses had saved me.
Yesterday I made an attempt to create a video post. Bob Dole was up to no good and ran the calves into me. Of course he stood a few feet from me looking all innocent. I tried again, and Urth decided to be all affectionate, and lick the skin off my arm. And once across my cheek for good measure.