A Quiet Night In

Nothing much to report on Tuesday, July 29th, except that Monday night I didn’t sleep very well, feeling every little twitch and itch as the possible venomous beetle that ate the back of my knee.

I’ve gotten into a morning routine where I wake up around 6:30 and shower, talk to Scott at 7:30, eat breakfast at 8:00 or 8:30, then leave for work around 9:00. I’m not usually big on routine, but the structure feels good here where so little else happens as expected.

I am so happy to have my Internet service working so I can “schedule” my Skype calls to my family. It feels like an entirely different experience when I can talk to them regularly without worrying about paying over a dollar a minute in long distance fees.

Tuesday morning, I don’t even get into Sonu’s cab before he asks me about my leg. Is it pain? Is it better?

It’s better. It’s less swollen, at least. And the lesion doesn’t seem to be spreading. It’s just a big “c” shape on the back of my knee. I’m just hoping it doesn’t turn into an open wound, because then I need to worry about the water coming into contact with it. If I have an open wound, because of the bacteria in the water, I’m going to need to take showers without getting my leg wet—and that will be a trick and a half. For now, I’m just crossing my fingers that my latest Indian souvenir won’t blister and seep.

At work, I design a prototype layout for a study card that will accompany a graduate level textbook on supply chain management. The CEO also invites me to contribute to the Pearson India blog. I have to think of something good enough to say. I decide to let some ideas brew in my brain until later in the week (read: procrastinate).

Sonu drives me home. As I am getting out of the car he looks at me and says, “Smile, ma’am.” Of course I do. In fact, I laugh. But the moment feels a bit odd. I wonder what made him say that. Was I looking glum? Does he just like seeing my front teeth?

For dinner, I microwave my leftover pasta from Liquid Kitchen. Most evenings I find some excuse to go to the market. I need Scotch tape. I wonder what’s at the bakery. But this evening I stay in and catch up on my blogging.

After my necrosis diagnosis, a quiet night in sounds lovely—and is. Now if I can just convince myself that the poison beetle isn't crawling around in my bed, I should be able to get some good sleep.