I was lying down trying to fall asleep before 6 or 7 am, and I realized I have spent the night penning odes about how much I love my family and it dawned on me that I am such a self-absorbed asshole I forgot to tell you that dad is ok. It was a very deep cut and he had an x-ray to check for nerve and bone damage, but in the end it just required some stitches. He’s still on blood thinners, though, so it took forever to get the blood to stop. And thus, the unique Cole ability to cause grievous bodily harm while cleaning continues on.
But seriously, dad. Who the hell cuts themselves removing the rubber in the bottom of the dishwasher and slices their hand on the exposed metal (THAT THE FUCKING LAWYERS AND ENGINEERS PUT THE RUBBER THERE TO PROTECT YOU FROM) because something wasn’t surgically clean. For the love of everything holy, I hope this OCD ends before you turn 80 or only have one finger left. Damned Germans are all dirt nazis.
OK, now, off to bed. I’ll try to sleep despite the traumatic events of the last 24 hours, worst of which is me having to face the fact that I love you all. And this Floyd album seems appropriate.
*** Update ***
Fuckitall, I am damaged goods right now. Posted this, went outside to sit there for a minute and clear my head before bed, got up and went inside, grabbed the sliding door and said “C’mon Tunch, bedtime,” stood there for a second, and then realized again that he is dead and I will never rub his belly again or yell at him for bitching at me or hear him chirp or purr or feel him rub between my legs or have him fight my hand as I tried to use the mouse while working or headbutt me when he wants attention or feel him jump up in bed next to me and walk up and down the bed for a few minutes before settling down next to my left ear and sleep with me, purring me to sleep.
I can’t fucking take this. I protected him for years and then he was killed sunning himself in our yard. Fuck it all. I’m going away from the blog for a few days.