14 February -
Valentine’s Day, what a joke. Created by greeting card companies and candy companies to prove to all of us how desperate and alone we are. They say that the suicide rate goes up around the Christmas season, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Valentine’s Day is right up there with it.
The loan refi is going swimmingly, as if any of you cared. I should be able to get back on my financial feet any day now.
I have a strange red spot on one of my thighs. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all (I try not to look down in that direction too often, lest onlookers suspect me of nefarious designs), but it feels a bit warm and itchy. I absentmindedly went to scratch it and it hurt, like when you accidentally scratch a sunburn.
18 February -
My swelling has gone down. Finally. Thanks to all of you who have sent cards and letters. I appreciate the kindness and that you’re all out there thinking of me, but it’s really nothing. I was in and out of the hospital in no time, and I heard that the goats are doing as well as can be expected. I should’ve gone on a trip. I hear medical travel can be quite rewarding. maybe I could find out what was wrong with me, while relaxing on the beach….
Well, that’s about all that I can handle for today. May the good lord bless you and keep you, and remember to keep producing and consuming at a steady but moderate rate. Your pal, David.
21 February -
It seems like weeks since I last wrote to all of you, but my nurse assures me that it’s just a matter of days. I hate her. The condescending way that she speaks to me, as if I were a dog. I swear she enjoys administering the medication, even with the smell and all. Speaking of which, her sponge baths are a joke. I could clean myself better with a dead poodle soaked in dumpster juice.
Funny, I have to have a pencil in my hand even though I’m typing all of this. What does that mean? I notice that someone has been chewing on it. Gross. When I catch them…