Walking wounded

I look like somebody beat the hell out of me.

So does Sunshine.

Hell, even Mollie looks like she got beat up.

I have a giant scrape and bruise on my left arm near my elbow from running into the door frame of the magic bus. I also have a giant scrape and bruise on my upper arm on the same side; got that one from running into the door frame at Sunshine’s warehouse this past weekend. I have some small scratches on my forearm on the same side from unloading some shit off Sunshine’s trailer (or something, hell if I remember what the hell scratched me up–it might have been the dog for all I know). I have a cut and bruise on my nose from running into a cabinet door. My palms are peeling from the blisters I got from the weedeater. I also have a little scrape of unidentified origin on my right arm, near the elbow.

Sunshine has more scratches than we can even count on his arms. His skin has started tearing very easily, so the least little thing rips a new bloody wound on him. His right foot is swollen and bruised like nobody’s business from dropping a large slab of granite on it. (Good thing he was wearing his red wing workboots with the steel toes and really thick leather, or it could have been so very much worse.) He has also been to the tribal health care center, so they’ve used him as a pincushion doing blood tests and shit, so he really looks like he’s been drug through hell. Last, but certainly not least, Sunshine got himself a big ole spider bite from a brown recluse while crawling under the pink house trying to fix a leaky water line.

Poor little Mollie got a giant scrape on her chest from a nail sticking up out of a board in a pile of debris. I’m still upset at Sunshine for letting my little baby girl investigate something so dangerous. She also has little scabs on her hind legs and belly from all the sticks and thorns and shit she encounters running around in all this extremely overgrown grass that we can’t seem to get a handle on no matter how hard we try. My poor little girl, she hardly ever complains about her wounds, so we’ve had to start just looking her over every night, checking for ticks and booboos.

I’m starting to think that this adventure will be the death of us all.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s