The Pound of Flesh
Predator Press
[LOBO]
At Saturday's company softball game I got to meet a lot of my new associates. It took place in a area on the map called "Community Garden," which is a hippie euphemism for "park." Afterwards, somewhat enthusiastic, I call my mom (amongst others), pacing outside the front of my apartment during the calls so I could simultaneously smoke.
It was during the call to my mom that I tripped on the cobblestones, and cracked my head open.
This created a lot of problems. First, I don't even know where the local hospital is yet. And I'm certainly not calling 911 for something that probably only required a few stitches. Also, I don't really know anyone here except for my new coworkers. Can you imagine? "Hi. This is your new hire, and I need medical assistance ..."
So, as head wounds tend to, I bled a lot. I stood patiently in the shower, waiting for it to stop for almost two hours. Once satisfied that it had stopped, I did exactly what you're supposed to do when you have a possible concussion: I immediately went to sleep.
Keep in mind I don't have my bed -or other comforts- yet. I am sleeping on the floor with sheets and pillows. I woke to a makeshift-bedding bloodbath. Worse, I decided to get back in the shower -now searing from my softball blowtorched sunburn- and shampooing out the blood, only starting the bleeding again.
I don't usually blog in an expository sense, but the strange thing is I seem to be better at numbers. Like I reprogrammed my new phone from memory. I memorized the new companies' account numbers and client phone numbers. Likewise, I pored over the addresses and roads, everything in the immediate vicinity.
Weird.
[LOBO]
At Saturday's company softball game I got to meet a lot of my new associates. It took place in a area on the map called "Community Garden," which is a hippie euphemism for "park." Afterwards, somewhat enthusiastic, I call my mom (amongst others), pacing outside the front of my apartment during the calls so I could simultaneously smoke.
It was during the call to my mom that I tripped on the cobblestones, and cracked my head open.
This created a lot of problems. First, I don't even know where the local hospital is yet. And I'm certainly not calling 911 for something that probably only required a few stitches. Also, I don't really know anyone here except for my new coworkers. Can you imagine? "Hi. This is your new hire, and I need medical assistance ..."
So, as head wounds tend to, I bled a lot. I stood patiently in the shower, waiting for it to stop for almost two hours. Once satisfied that it had stopped, I did exactly what you're supposed to do when you have a possible concussion: I immediately went to sleep.
Keep in mind I don't have my bed -or other comforts- yet. I am sleeping on the floor with sheets and pillows. I woke to a makeshift-bedding bloodbath. Worse, I decided to get back in the shower -now searing from my softball blowtorched sunburn- and shampooing out the blood, only starting the bleeding again.
I don't usually blog in an expository sense, but the strange thing is I seem to be better at numbers. Like I reprogrammed my new phone from memory. I memorized the new companies' account numbers and client phone numbers. Likewise, I pored over the addresses and roads, everything in the immediate vicinity.
Weird.
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