Jan 02 2004
Scarface
Mom has finally been removed from Intensive Care and is now in the general hospital population. So she’s still in the hospital, but it’s, relatively speaking, hospital lite. Still hospital, though. And we’re still on the rollercoaster. Once you get on this ride, you can never get off, it seems.
While the black eye and carpet burn I gave myself for my very own Christmas concussion are fading, I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a rakish scar above my left eyebrow*.
The real story of how I got it just isn’t amusing enough for me, and I know I will be asked by those not in possession of the dull facts how I allowed such a thing to happen, and I want to be prepared with an entertaining anecdote. So I’m asking you for ideas for a better story. So far, I like my nephew’s suggestion:
“If I told you how I got it, I’d have to kill you.”
But as usual, I want more. So lay it on me!
*No waxing or facials for a while for the gravity-challenged, I guess, no matter how badly they are needed. Maybe lower grooming standards are de rigueur among the trailer trash set anyway.