Still Alive?

I got two (2) emails that basically said, "Hey, are you dead yet?" It occurs me that after my last post that went something like, "THE PAIN THE UNBEARABLE PAIN MAKE IT END OR I WILL SHUFFLE OFF THIS MORTAL COIL," I went silent and hadn't blogged again. Instead of making good on my threat and offing myself, I just started reading a lot of books. I made it through six this week.

But anyway, yes, I am still numbered among the living. My brain didn't explode out of my ear, and I didn't accidentally do myself in with a makeshift ear-scratcher made from a coat hanger. I do appreciate, though, that two (2) people on the internet cared enough to inquire after my current state of livingness. I also appreciate all the advice left for me in the comments. It did help reduce the pressure; the raging infection had already set in of course, so it didn't do anything for that, but I am now armed with ways to stave off a future infection.

A note about Detroit: The city is doing its best to bring back the downtown area, and it's going pretty well. I go out at night with no qualms, there's a nice park with fountains downtown, etc. But there is zero useful shopping nearby. I'm swimming in wig shops but there's no grocery store for miles. Frankly, I've become rather attached to food and toilet paper, though, so we have to head to the suburbs to shop. Here's the thing: I hate suburbs. Haaaaaaaaaate with a passion that burns like that rash you got from that dirty frat boy one semester in college. There's too many cars all crammed in together, which is ironic given that at least 73% of any given suburb is a giant parking lot. There's too many Wal-Mart stores. EVERYTHING is a drive through (drive-thru). The suburbs are that wasteland I pass through when going from city to country and the place I grudgingly go to buy sustinence and butt paper.

The point of that suburban rant is this: could you remind me to buy the following

• Vacuum bags
• A new, mold-free shower curtain
• Toilet paper
• Scotch tape

Because we need that stuff, like, way bad.

Comments

[allthewine]

heya fellow Detroiter. I feel your pain, like for reals.