Chore Is Dead

I watched firemen break into Chore's apartment today. Then a little while later, somebody from the city came in and wheeled out a body bag. That's when I realized... The body doesn't always let you know when it's about to break. There isn't always a convenient bile-spewing alarm. Sometimes it's invisible. Like Mrs. K.'s blood clot.

On a possibly un-related note, I find I don't need to sleep much anymore.  And I'm not hungry either.  The coldness of my room actually feels nice.  It reminds me of an operating room.  Clean.  Clinical.

I think I'm going to go scrub the floors some more.  It takes longer now, with one hand.  I can't use my stump yet, the stitches seep with blood if I put too much pressure on them.  I think I might try and cauterize it with the oven if it doesn't stop soon.  Don't worry about me, lovies.  It's just a small bit of pain to make sure I stay healthy for the days ahead.