Fishcapades

I'm finding it hard to write these days.


This is most likely because the need to find gainful employment has begun to press down on me. Evidently, just the thought of returning to work is enough to traumatize me into almost complete blogging silence.


Don't get me wrong, I do like to work, despite my obvious utter joy at having this summer all to myself. I want and need to make my own money, and am becoming somewhat restless over the whole issue by now. I remain hopeful that whatever I find to do, it will be something I enjoy doing (fingers crossed!) . Whatever I do, I'm not sure it will be full time. In fact, it almost certainly won't be. Of course, I will not write about my job in this forum (never a smart move). I will, however, keep you posted if I find something.


Sadly, the Fish Escapade (or the "Fish-capade" as I've come to think of it), did not turn out well. In fact, I'd go so far as to say the joke's on me.


After I dragged the thing on the wheeled plant stand and managed to wedge it in the bedroom doorway (brilliant!), I was sort of stuck. Satan was out of town, and the thought of calling someone to say, "Um, yah, by the way? Can you come over and help me move a large petrified Sail Fish out of my hallway?", just didn't appeal.


This meant that for two days, FurGirl and I were either leaping over it (me), walking around it (me), or standing in hallway looking perplexed and clearly wondering why the crap there is a big, nasty dead fish blocking the normal path to the kibble (FurGirl).



So, yah. There we were.


I had gotten fairly good at leaping over the thing, or so I thought, when a poorly executed leap caused me to land square on the darn thing's bayonet nose. There was a big, scary cracking sound, almost like a gun shot, and beneath my shoe, I found the first three inches or so of the fish's pointy nose. Not good. I tossed it in a drawer thinking the S-Man could glue it back on with some Liquid Nails (Satan does love his Liquid Nails. He has spent many happy hours gluing things that have no need to be glued with the stuff) if need be. Or maybe I'd get lucky and he wouldn't notice.


But, oh no, the Fish-capade still was wasn't over. That would have been way too easy.


Yesterday afternoon, AGAIN, I walked into the fish. This time I was shoeless, and I somehow managed to jam the inside heal of my foot onto the broken nose part. Which was, unbeknownst to me, quite jagged, and as it turned out, REALLY sharp.


My foot was darn near impaled. I came away missing a chunk of flesh and bleeding twice as profusely as the last time I nicked myself (on the now missing tail fin). Oh, and did I mention? I was howling in pain. And people. I am not a howler by nature. It HURT.

I spent a brief amount of time wondering if I needed a tetanus shot. And then I imagined the conversation:

Yes, doctor, I accidentally stabbed myself with a sail fish...

I'm risking the tetanus.

When the S-Man came home last night, he was annoyed to find the fish jammed in the hallway, but quite satisfied to hear the thing had stabbed me in the foot. No word yet on whether he noticed the impromptu nose job.

God knows, I'm not going to mention it.

The good news is that the fish has now been moved back to its original spot in the living room floor.

I am pathetically grateful.