||[Apr. 3rd, 2006|10:11 pm]
I'm typing this with two fingers. It's not because I've forgotten how to type, but because my hands are patched up with bandages. My right hand is so bad I have trouble holding my dick to pee.
The timing is perfect. Just a couple of hours before the accident I called my dad to bitch about having a zillion things due tomorrow and having no time to finish any of it.
This is the second time in two months a bike accident sent me flying. At least this time it wasn't entirely my fault. It hurts a lot more though. When I put Iodine over my all wounds I was in more pain than I remember being in a long time.
There's this T-intersection near my apartment that has to be simply the most idiotic intersection in the history of humanity. One direction is a steep upslope so you can't see vehicles beyond a hundred feet. The other direction is a sharp curve so again you can't see oncoming vehicles. THERE IS NO STOP SIGN at the intersection. And a completely ineffective streetlight. There is really no safe way to cross, even for pedestrians. And I have to take a left turn on my bike here. At night. This happens on average twice a week. I retrospect I'm surprised I survived this long. And lucky that I only hit the curb and wasn't hit by a car.
Apart from all the deadlines, this also means I can't go to the gym either for the next week or so. That was pretty much the only good thing I had going on.
It's strange how depression works. I'm in a worse position now than I was a month ago when I was depressed. Yet I'm not the slightest bit depressed now. Just a vague awareness that I'm well and truly fucked.