it’s another peaceful night in seattle.
you’re not up to much.
just the usual, eating slices of parmesan and arguing with your ex.
[[uah<-send a slightly tortured and vaguely accusatory message]].and by hit, you mean slice delicately with the big knife you bought at safeway last week. you hadn't bought a cheese grater, and had been starting to seriously consider the potential benefits of pre-grated cheese, but alas.
a problem for another day. [[the cheese awaits.]]the cheese proves itself a powerful adversary.
you miss.
surveying the cutting board, it appears you are now the proud owner of one less slice of cheese than you expected, and significantly less finger than you had a few moments ago.
[[alas]].its 4am.
you've been in the emergency room for 8 hours. you have bore witness to, among other things, the tale of how a houseboat saleswoman got a DUI two weeks ago before driving here, an empassioned argument against nobody on the theology of free will as it dictates the culpability of rape victims, and the detailed plans of the person sitting next to you to brutally murder someone across the room, which you actually wouldn't mind at all.
you'd been happily killing time since you arrived last night, under the fairly detached assumption that no physical scenarios were really any worse than any others, so there wasnt much to complain about.
however, after some consideration, you've suddenly come to realize that certain scenarios, such as those involving leaving immediately to go lie on the floor of your bedroom, are distinctly better than others, such as your present one.
you visualize yourself two to three times going over to the intake counter and asking them if you should simply leave and go home. partially just to see what they say, and partially just to speak to anyone at all.
you could really use a [[slice of parmesan]] right now.fin.perfect.
an excellent move.
life is good. so good that the only thing that could possibly make it better is another slice of parmesan.
you [[hit the cheese.]]