it could be worse

My bad day yesterday cleared up faster than the weather did.  It was pretty rough for a while; I tried to clean the home while I was cooped indoors and scrubbing toilets always puts me in a good mood.  That, and hunger.  SB's cousin's child has been found to be allergic to wheat and the family can't really cook so SB and I have been experimenting with foods, trying to find easy, gluten free recipes to send on to them.  I tried a rice porridge mix for breakfast and it was inedible.

But then when I started feeling really sorry for myself I realized that things could be worse.  I could be somewhere having chunks of flesh cut off of my leg.  And I'm not talking about that time when our rugby scrapes got infected by some nasty staphylococcus bacteria that was lurking around on the pitch and we had to have our skin scraped off.  That was nasty but this picture that one of my friend's cousin posted takes the cake for pain. 


At least she will have something to show for her (voluntary) pain when it's all over.  At first I thought she got some sort of a brand.  That was the newest technique in body modification when I was in college, but at second glance I realized that it was something more serious, and possibly, scarily prone to infection until it heals.  She calls it scarification.  Suddenly tattoos seem like child's play.

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