I was at work by my desk, getting a glucose reading. It’s a simple enough process. Stab a finger with the little lancet thingy, squeeze out a drop of blood onto the test strip, and find out what the glucose number is.

This time, when I squeezed out the drop of blood, the drop popped like a zit on my hand and shirt. I said “Gosh darnit to heck on a minibike” or something and went home to get a clean shirt.

<begin digression>

As I drove, I thought about rafting. A bunch of us once went rafting down a river. It was a slow, lazy river and we tied the rafts together and lay back and watched the countryside go by. The raft that Allen and Alanna were in had a slow leak and the bottom of the raft was getting pretty waterlogged after a while.

When Alanna mentioned this to Pam, Alanna said “This seems more like something that happens to you and Steve.”

Not the most flattering observation but I couldn’t fault its accuracy.

<end digression>

I looked down at my bloodstained shirt. It is the kind of thing that happens to me.