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Friday, July 23, 2010

A Series of Unfortunate Events - The Prelude

I'm good at giving animals shots. No, I'm not a nurse, but I know how to do it and I'm good at it. My next door neighbor had a diabetic cat and when they went away, I came over every day, fed him, cleaned his litter box and gave him a shot. Well for reasons known only to Mr. Kitty on this day, he didn't want to get his shot.  I got him up on the table, gave him a pat, pinched his skin and, he swiveled around and bit me, really badly. I started to bleed all over everywhere, which, I, in my ignorance decided was a good thing. I got the bleeding under control, smacked Mr. Kitty, gave him his shot and went home.  We were going out to dinner with friends that night, so I cleaned it with antibac soap, poured hydrogen peroxide over it, bandaged it, and didn't give it another thought.

The next morning, I'm sitting photoediting a wedding and I peal off the bandage.  The wound is red and swollen.  This does not look good, but I think to myself, if worse comes to worse, I'll just go to the ER Monday morning.  I continue editing. Two hours later, I look at my hand and I have red streaks running up to my wrist. UhOh, this does not look good. So Tommy takes me to the Johns Hopkins local urgent care.  The doc looks at me and prescribes, superstrong penicillin.  I tell him I can't take that because I'm allergic to penicillin. He says and I quote, "If you don't want to lose that arm, which you could very easily do, you will take this medicine." Ms. Adams, you have blood poisoning." If you are not much better in twelve hours I am admitting you and if you don't respond to intravenous antibiotics, you will have to lose the arm if you want to live." Well I took the pills and I had made enough progress that I didn't have to be admitted.  Only trouble was the pills made me goofy.

So one nice day when I was driving home from work, I stopped at a red light.  My passengerside window was open, which it generally never is, and a young man came up reached in and stole my pocketbook.   He then sold my identity. He and the buyer were enventually found and sent to jail, but it did not make for a fun summer/fall. It was all sorted out, Citibank was wonderful.  But let me tell you it was no fun.  The bad check collection calls were my favorite.  That and the fertility treatments the buyers girlfriend helped herself to. Anyway that's how my identity was stolen and that's why for two months I started smoking again.

If it ever gets below 90, I have some women lined up to illustrate how to look good on or with your horse when you're over thirty.  Tomorrow it's going to feel like 110, 90% humidity and code red air.  I'm going to have to have the hose discussion with Kitt before I turn her out. She can't get overheated.  After I hose her down, I think I'll hose myself.


  1. Too bad Mr. Kitty wasn't sitting in the passenger seat next to your purse, so he could bite that money-grubber's hand.

  2. That's wild indeed - I can't believe he was that brazen to reach in your car while you were in it!