Mailed

The flame licked over her first two fingers. The pain was sharp and sudden. She was so startled it took her a few seconds to move her hand. Seconds in which she recognized the allure of fire.

Tall and yellow with the center gas-lit blue, the flames danced — mesmerizing — across her skin. It didn’t even really hurt. Until it did.

She jerked her hand away and hurried to find water. She’d been taught basic medicine. She knew that burns were bad.

She fell to her knees next to the stream and plunged her hand into the cold water. It came straight out of the mountains and was quick to make her flesh go numb.

She kept her two fingers in the water but lifted the rest of her hand out. She submerged them until the cold was beginning to hurt and she could feel the mud seeping through the knees of her pants. Then she pulled her hand away from the water and leaned back from the stream.

She examined her fingers. The skin was reddened but unbroken. She couldn’t tell if the red was from burns already forming or from the cold.

The memory of a cooking lesson went through her mind. — “Once you remove it from the heat, cover the meat and leave it to sit for at least ten minutes. As it cools, the meat will continue to cook. Plus you don’t want to cut it too soon and let all the juices out. There is a reason why patience is considered a virtue.” — She’d learned how to perfectly roast meat, though it had taken a while for her to even approach the skill of her teacher. In the same lesson she’d made cheesy roasted brussels sprouts, which had involved boiling the whole heads before plunging them into an ice bath to stop the cooking process.

She sat with a THUMP. Her mind was putting the idea together with chilling detail. Boiling sprouts, roasting meat, ice water.

I’M made out of meat, she thought.

Small Gods at Amazon

Currently there are too many people at my house. It’s driving me up the wall.

When all I want is a moment of peace and quiet, someone is invariably yell-talking about stupid shit. Or I come downstairs to find that someone has splattered grease all over the stove and counter and left the mess for me to clean up.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home… I fried a bunch of stuff in the pan I left on the counter. And I didn’t rinse off any of my dishes. You’re welcome.”

My stomach has constantly been in knots and I feel like I’ve been locked into a stressful situation that I’m never going to get out of.

Oh, and since the number of dudes has exceeded the capacity for commonsense, there’s been lots of instances of the toilet seat left up and urine splattered everywhere. I’m nearly to the point of posting a mandatory “Sit to pee” policy sheet on the bathroom door. Because I can’t handle the grossness on top of the inability to flush a toilet.

Seriouly, the rim of the toilet is disgusting. I don’t want to see it. And I especially don’t want to see it after someone has left their DNA samples all over it. If this was CSI and you were the bad guy, you’d already be in jail.

Anyways, back to attempting to write while surrounded by loudmouths and degenerates. Sigh.

Uramichi Oniisan 01 at Amazon
Small Gods at Amazon

I feel gross. I spent today doing yardwork and I really need a shower.

Today was kind of a perfect day for being outdoors. It was warm with enough cloud cover that I wasn’t roasting as I chopped down a yard full of blackberries.

This was the first time using my new Leathercraft work gloves and I was happy to have them. They seemed like they’d be too lightweight to deal with the blackberries directly, but they were great for mowing the lawn and using the machete. Plus it was kind of neat that they have some touchpad capable fingertip pads so I could answer my phone.

I was out there chopping down brush for over three hours before I was called away. I felt like I was in the zone or something. I could have kept working for a lot longer. It just seems weird because it wasn’t too long ago that I would have been tired out after an hour.

Get healthy. Be healthy. Live healthy.