July 26th, 2015

Good Omens

"Hi, I'm Chris, and I'll be your ER chauffeur this evening..."

I can still say that I've never had to take myself to the ER.

My friend Gerald had a lousy night last night. Ended with him on crutches and wearing a splint, plus dealing with another issue that might be TMI and is definitely not my story to tell. Let's call that Concern #1. He let me know via direct message about Concern #1 and said he needed to go to the hospital (or as he said, "health jail"). I told him I'd pick him up at work and get him there. On our way, we happened to drive past a diner/bar where a lot of his friends were, and Gerald asked to stop so he could tell them what was happening. I did, he got out, and he was crossing the street when suddenly he was hobbling. I thought he'd had a charley horse. No, he'd felt something in his ankle go "pop." (Not a scientific term, I know. Neither is "ew," but you know what I mean.) On top of that, we shared a moment of panic when I had trouble re-starting my car -- grr -- so we waited for a few minutes until it did start. THANK YOU, CAR.

Yeah. A more dramatic Saturday night than I usually have.

We got to a hospital, he got triaged and admitted, and I hung out, wondering if I'd need caffeine, or a place to sleep that wasn't my bedroom (spoilers: nope). And he kept his sense of humor:

MALE NURSE SETTING THE SPLINT: You'll want to wait for it to get hard.
GERALD: Thinking of Kim Kardashian usually does that.
ME: I'm more an Alison Brie type myself.
GERALD: I think we all can agree on Felicia Day.

Now for healing and drugs. For Gerald, not me.

"Iiiiiiiiiiii love to feel the rain in the summertime..."

Serious rain reached Portland this weekend: from drizzle to driving rain on Saturday, a water-wall this afternoon. I had at most sprinkles to contend with as I headed home (I'd gone up to Big-Ass Sandwiches, as I like to do) and had reached the porch of the house where I lived when two things happened: a neighbor cat who acts very friendly bounded onto the porch, likely hoping to go inside, and the skies opened. I wanted to do something to divert and distract the cat, so I put down my backpack, said to myself "I was going to change clothes anyway," and walked out into the downpour. That felt goooooooooood. And successfully diverted the cat, too.

In lieu of a photo of the actual moment, enjoy this recreation (meaning: stock photo) with a hot woman in place of me:


You may also choose to enjoy the Alarm singing about the feeling: