No flash flood; no bike ride; no booster shot

Dear diary,

You’ll recall that during the spring snow-melt, our basement leaked puddles of water that threatened to turn into a flood; so I moved all the stuff that we were storing there to the upstairs rooms. So our upstairs rooms have been jam-packed for months and months. But recently I felt that enough time had passed with a dry basement that we could trust it again; so I finally got around to moving all our storage back downstairs; I spent the entirety of both Monday and Tuesday moving stuff. Then (I’m not kidding), the instant after I got everything relocated, my phone beeped at me with a warning saying: “A Flash Flood Watch is in effect for your county until 7 PM Thurs.”

Then it rained heavily and continuously throughout Wednesday and Thursday; and I was in a steady state of panic, thinking my hard work would prove ruined. “It’s totally characteristic for the God of this world, who is also its Satan, to wait until the moment I finish moving all my stuff back downstairs and then flood the place again,” I said to myself.

But it turns out that no water got in. We didn’t even have seepage this time. (Nonetheless, God is evil.)

*

And on Thursday night I watched the Democrats’ primary debate; the 3rd one for this cycle. I watched the whole thing, and it made me very irritated. The reason I put myself thru this (I’ve paid attention to everything that’s been going on in U.S. politics since the 2016 primaries, solely because of Bernie Sanders — I considered him a ray of hope to open the eyes of the populace; and I still favor him, tho by now my despair has almost completely returned), I say, the reason I continue to torment myself with federal politics is that I vowed to follow the developments till the 2020 election, and if the results are favorable, to continue to care, while if they’re unfavorable, to return to ignoring politics henceforth altogether.

Now on Thursday we had planned to go on another bike ride with that neighbor of ours who took us along the Mississippi Crick a few months ago. But since it was pouring rain all day, we rescheduled the trip for Friday. So I went to bed on Thursday night with a head full of Democrat flapdoodle, and I woke up on Friday eager to ride the high country. But right after I showered and got myself properly dressed, our neighbor sent a postcard that said “There are still rain droplets on the path. We should go on Monday instead.” So we had to figure out what to do with our Friday morning, since the bike ride was canceled:

My sweetheart had brought home from the market a big bag of grass seed, plus fertilizer and some other things, to help our patchy lawn look young again; so we chose to follow what the sages recommend for the preparation of new growth: apparently you’re supposed to mow the existing grass short, then thoroughly rake, and then broadcast the seed, and then do other stuff that I forgot. So I mowed the lawn: that’s all I had time for.

Also this cherry tree that’s in the front of our yard got struck by lightning just before we moved in last year, as a sign from God to welcome us (God is Satan whom I hate); and while mowing I kept seeing this tree’s gnarled branches and thinking “I would like to cut you down, you bare useless branches that neither grow leaves nor fruit nor ever blossom. All your neighboring branches are healthy and green-leafed and blooming and bearing fruit; so they can stay — it’s a shame that they must share the same trunk system with ye crooked cousins and twisted sisters.” So I got my wooden ladder and my rusty saw, and I began to attack the first ugly branch. After a couple moments, it fell. “That was easy,” I thot to myself.

Then I re-positioned my ladder & began to cut the 2nd ugly branch. It surrendered just as easily as the 1st. So then I moved to the 3rd; and by this time I was overconfident in my skill, for, to my mind, I had become a seasoned branch-chopper; so I put too much strength into the cut, and the branch fell down instantly, but the rusty saw kept thrusting forward with the momentum that I had given it, which was tremendous, and it jabbed into my thumbnail. It did not lodge there; it just banged my thumb and bounced off; and I didn’t feel pain, but when I looked at my hand, which was gloved, there was a visible hole where the rusty saw had struck, signifying that penetration had occurred at least to the exterior material; so I decided to go indoors and take a closer look at it:

When I removed the glove, there was a very tiny fracture in the thumbnail itself, and a smile of blood lining the base where the horny part ends and the skin begins, just above the thumb-knuckle (it’s hard to describe the cut’s precise location — it would be convenient if I could offer a visual illustration, for then you’d understand immediately; but I already spent this entry’s allotted image on another cheeseburger photograph, so my textual approximation will have to suffice — the place I mean is closer to the rest of the hand than to the outer spaces beyond); so I washed the area carefully and thoroughly with soap and water, doused it with isopropyl alcohol; then applied antibacterial ointment and wrapped it in swaddling clothes. That is to say: I mummified it. Then I re-gloved my hand and went outside to finish the branchwork.

Right when I got to the ladder, a red truck drew nigh (the tree I was hacking at was close by the street, so when this truck appeared, it was like someone was pulling up to declare their order at a fast-food drive-thru) so I turned to greet whoever was driving this vehicle, and it turned out to be our neighbor — the very one with whom we had scheduled and rescheduled the bike ride — and he said, “Hey, how much are you planning on cutting down here?” And I said, “Just the branches that don’t have any leaves or fruit on them.” And my neighbor said, “Oh. I was thinking that maybe you were wanting to remove the whole thing.” And I said, “Well I don’t have much of a plan; I don’t really know what I’m doing here, so, if you think I should do that, I will.” And he said, “No: do what you want. But, just so you know, I have a lot of tools for cutting down trees. I even own a chainsaw. So I can help you if you ever want to do that.” And I said, “Oh thanks! Wow, a chainsaw? That sounds awesome and amazing!” (Here I was quoting Officer Duke, from the 2013 film Wrong Cops, although I assume that my neighbor is not familiar with the scene in question, where Duke is at the booth in the diner chatting with Bob the filmmaker while counting the cash from his sale.)

Then our neighbor said, “Look up: see those three dead evergreens over there — are those in your yard?” And I said, “No, those are on the other side of the fence, in the neighbor’s yard.” And our neighbor in the truck said, “Is anyone living in that house?” And I said, “No. They even have a lime-green card in their mailbox that says ‘Do not deliver mail: nobody lives here’.” And he said, “Do you know how long the place has been uninhabited?” And I said, “Well I’m only repeating what the locals around here have told me, but they say it’s been vacant for three years now.” And my neighbor said, “Do you know WHY nobody lives there?” And I said, “Well, neighbor J. said that it’s cuz the couple who used to live there got divorced: and one day they both just left and never came back.” And my neighbor in the truck said, “Yeah, they probably purchased the house jointly and the issue never got resolved. You should go online and get their contact info from the official government site — they make it available; it’s the law — and you should call the guy and ask him if you can cut down those dead trees in his back yard. He’d be stupid not to agree; you’d be doing him a favor.”

Then when we were finished talking to our neighbor in the red truck, we went inside to eat lunch; and I began thinking about how rusty that saw was that cut my thumb right thru the nail; and I began wondering whether my tetanus vaccination was current; cuz I couldn’t recall how long ago it was that I’d gotten my booster shots, and I know that Henry David Thoreau’s brother died from tetanus; so I began to worry that I, too, was destined for the same end; thus I grew determined to thwart this divine-satanic plan, and I said to my sweetheart:

“Do you remember the last time I got my shots?”

And she said, “No, I don’t.”

So I said, “Can we check?”

So she made a call, and the insurance office workers put her on hold for an eternity; so I said, “Just hang up and let’s make an appointment to get a tetanus shot — I’m most likely due for a booster anyway.”

So we made an appointment for 1:40; then I took a short nap, since we had time, and I woke up from my nap at 1:42; and we then hastened out to our car and drove to the clinic, following all traffic rules carefully.

I should also mention that before we left our house, I had a last-minute idea to bring along to the clinic the rusty saw that had pierced my thumb, in case the nurses or doctors wanted to see it. “Maybe they’d like to do a test on it, to see if it really is infested with tetanus,” I thot to myself. So I grabbed the saw and placed it in the trunk of our car; and, in the process of handling the rusty blade, I ended up piercing my forefinger on one of its teeth, and the tip began to bleed: but it was only one drop; so I decided to clean and bandage the cut later, after the appointment.

The worst thing about this second wound was that now I was required to wear a bandage on my left thumb AND right index finger all day long; this made it hard to type on my keyboard, and that’s why I haven’t been able to publish very many entries in this here journal as of late.

Finally, when we arrived at the doctor’s clinic, the secretary greeted us: “Hello; what is your name, and how can I help you?” I said, “My name is Bryan, and I have an appointment to get a tetanus shot.” And the secretary said, “What time is your appointment?” And I said, “1:40 — I hope we’re not too late.” And she said, “Did you get a fresh injury?” And I said, “Yeah, well I was cutting branches off a tree in our yard, and I was using a saw that was rusty, and I ended up getting a minor cut on my thumb — I’d rather just ignore it, but I feared that doing so would be foolish, because of the possibility of disease; for the blade was very rusty, and I was working outdoors at the time, so there was dirt and soil all over everything.”

And after a few moments of typing on her computer, the secretary said, “OK, well the reason that I asked you if it was a fresh injury is that you already have your vaccinations, and, to get a tetanus booster before it’s due, you must first visit a doctor and have them recommend another shot; but even then, it isn’t guaranteed that the health insurance companies will pay for it.”

And I said, “My shots are current, then?”

And she squinted her eyes at the computer screen and answered, “It says that you are 2022.” (She didn’t say “safe until the year 2022”; she just said “you ARE 2022.”)

So, after doing some mental calculation, I answered: “Ah, that must mean that I got my shots in 2012, cuz they’re good for a decade!”

And she said, “That might be right. I’m not sure how it works.”

So I said, “Well, we called our health insurance provider first, because that’s what the doctor’s office said to do, and they couldn’t tell me what my vaccination history was; that’s why we came here to get a new shot: but if you’re telling me that I’m current, then I shouldn’t have to worry about dying from tetanus; so I’ll just go home.”

And she said, “I can’t advise you. You must decide for yourself what you want to do. All I can do is tell you that we can’t administer shots without a doctor’s recommendation, and your insurance company probably won’t pay for it.”

And I said, “That’s fine — can I just leave right now, then, even tho I made that 1:40 appointment?”

And she said, “Sure. But I can’t tell you to leave: you must decide that for yourself.”

So I said, “OK, then I’ll leave. — I hope this wasn’t too much of a hassle for you.”

And she smiled and said, “No problem.”

Then we left. And now it’s already the next morning; so if I can make it thru tomorrow without succumbing to the siren song of tetanus, I’ll probably never again get injured or die.