25 November 2000 ~ Helena's finger looks like an eggplant, and goodbye to the Ghetto Palace...

The middle finger of my right hand is swelled to double it's normal size and is a convincing shade of bluish-purple.

I have NO idea what I did to it. I'm pretty sure I damaged a nerve or something, because I can't feel a thing in it. This is sort of freaking me out. How do you get part of your body to look -- and feel -- so deformed and not have ANY idea what you did to it?

Why does this have to happen NOW? I have to MOVE tomorrow! How am I going to lift bags and boxes and furniture when I can't even move my finger? My most important finger, even! The one I'm attempting to type with right now...

why does this have to happen NOW?

I like that question a lot, even if the situation sucks. When something completely unexpected happens, and it seems to fuck things up, it seems like there MUST be a reason. When I lost my job at Record Town and suddenly got two new jobs within the next two days, for instance. Yeah, it sucked to get fired, but it worked out in the way I guess it HAD to work out. When one door closes, another opens, or whatever...

Why is my finger swelled and numb? I mean, now I can barely type, I'm not sure what kind of lifting I'm going to be able to do tomorrow, and I sure as hell can't play with Norman's bass... I don't know... It's freaky, and unpleasant, and not good in any way I can imagine, but I'm one of those sickos who honestly believes everything will work out for the better. Even though there are now shooting pains going all through my finger... Uh...

So I'm moving tomorrow... Goodbye to the Ghetto Palace. Goodbye to Jeff and I sitting on the roof singing the Lesbian song at top volume. Goodbye to worrying about where the hell Peter could possibly be at 5 AM. Goodbye to boa feathers all over the house, and having sex in the yellow kitchen, and screaming matches in the bedroom. Goodbye to the downstairs people, who were always either fucking with their music at top volume, or cooking something that smelled like Corn Chex and snot in a creamy garlic sauce. Goodbye to nasty 70's carpeting, and fruitflies in the kitchen, and one of the best freaking showers in the universe. Goodbye to housemates that drink too much and spend the night throwing up in the bathroom; goodbye to [male] housemates who steal my bras; goodbye to housemates, PERIOD.

I don't know as I'm going to miss this place. It still smells like Peter. It smells like codependency and Peter. It smells cold and heartless and a little scary... I'm not going to miss this place at all.

I've got to get going for now... My hand hurts like a bitch.

And just FYI, my phone service gets turned off tomorrow, and I'm not going to have 'net access for a couple of days -- probably until the second week of December. In case of emergency, call my mom or my work (anybody who might have an emergency and need to reach me knows the Java's number by heart... *wink*)

Love,
~Helena*

"Goodnight, coffee..." --Helena, closing at Java's.