I ride a scooter. Some of you may know that. Think Vespa, think urban goddess.
Or think victim waiting to happen, if you must. My brother also owns a scooter. Last Wednesday night, he failed to see a stop sign, blew through it, and was hit by an SUV. He’s in the trauma ward still, with several broken ribs, a cracked sternum, a bruised heart, bruised lung, and bleeding into his brain.
In short: I’m a little distracted. I’ll get back to this soonish, but not until things settle a little more. He’s beginning to regain consciousness slowly, but he still doesn’t realize he’s in a hospital.
He had moved recently and his place is in a disaster, so instead of just playing little sis hangin’ by the bedside, I’m also trying to create some form of normalcy in his home before he returns.
Wish life was just orgasms and kisses, but it is what it is: Complicated.
Fortunately, the best thing that ever happened to me was almost dying in a scooter accident about 15 months ago. I hope this’ll turn into a positive for him, too, but it’s too soon to tell.
I have something sitting around that might be good to post, but I don’t really know. I’ll have to look at it. Today, though, I’m Molly Maid and looking to organize the hell he calls home. Jesus. Have I mentioned how much I hate that kind of task? Moving sucks. It’s why I’m working on my seventh year in the same pad. Oh, well. Clearly you need to bleed profusely to sucker me into this shit. Good one, bro.