Hurt

My latest in my series of minor but frequent injuries is a small piece of glass embedded in my wrist. Subconscious suicide attempt? Gasp.

No, well, really. It's a little chip of black glass. When I rested my wrist on the desk I realised that it was painful and bleeding. And black. There was a teensy bit poking out from under my skin and the rest was sitting snugly inside, raising a little bump. The tweezers couldn't grip the exposed part so I dug in and pucked it out. Unfortunately it broke and I spent five minutes scavenging all the pieces.

Other than that I have two cuts on my arm - both as a result of moving past piles of sharp construction materials in the shop; a cut on my leg from the edge of a plasterboard; and a scratch on my knuckle from God knows what.

It's not that I'm not careful, but raising my guard probably won't hurt. Hurt. Get it? Haha.

Friday

Jez messaged me five minutes before I finish work. Getting a haircut at Chinatown.

He emerged from the salon looking peculiar. I didn't like the way they left a little sweeping fringe when the sides were trimmed so short. Say no more to Asian hairdressers. Please, I beg you.

We had sushi at the place across from Capitol Square. Mango salmon. Fried fish skins. Mmm. Mmm ... Mmm?

Maloney's for drinks with mostly-Jez's friends. Though Jez vehemently denies this, I think he would have enjoyed himself immensely if not for my presence. To be honest Maloney's was high on my list of last-places-I-wanted-to-be. Mainly because when placed on a chair in a stuffy room with a glass of alcohol after a week's worth of work, staying awake is out of the question without periodically sticking pins into my nipples.

This was evident when I tried to take a photo with Becca and was puzzled over why it would not work when she pointed out that I was in fact holding the camera back-to-front.

Jez caught my eye every few minutes, wrinkled his nose at me and mouthed "I love you". I considered going home to save him the burden of looking after me. Of course he didn't allow it.

By the time we were home, Jez was drunk. There's a bright side though.

I slept comfortably.

Saturday

Was visited by the familiar lower-abdominal burning. After some agony Jez decided to take me to the doctor.

His hair was excellent this morning. I found it highly irritating that he chooses to look sexier than I've ever seen him while I'm a frizzy little ball of mess in my soiled dress.

As it happens, not only did the burning disappear before we arrived, Dr M. was off and the waiting time was estimated to be one hour. There were like twenty patients before me. What's that, like 3 minutes each? My kitty cat needs more than 3 minutes.

With me muttering lame sorries, we ate lunch at Sahara and walked through Westfield like a couple of high-school kids. When Jez left a little bit of me died.