I've started going to Burmese lessons regularly, so that's fun. It's nice to know I haven't forgotten absolutely everything from my intensive program last summer. It's all slowly, ever so slowly coming back to me. And it's fun to go; making conversation in our limited Burmese is always hilarious, especially when you're "selling books," the only way to identify them is by color, and "blue" in Burmese means porn. Good times.
My roommate Marisa left last Monday, so I've been taking care of her little pug Raisin since then. And it has not been pretty. Little did I know that we are currently in tick season, and Raisin was just COVERED in them. I've definitely learned some things about myself trying to take care of this dog, namely that tweezering ticks off an animal makes me want to vomit and induces a paranoid state in which I believe that the entire house and all my clothing is infested. My friend Hannah was gracious enough to save my sanity and come by with her car last night so I could take him to the kennel, and boy was that an experience. We had to get Raisin into a little carrying case, and by "little" I mean wayyy too small for him. I tried to entice him into it with treats, but he kept sticking his head in, snapping up the treat, and briskly retreating. He finally climbed in there on his own, and I swiftly closed the other end. Hannah had to try to zip the mesh cover shut while I held it in place, all the while Raisin pressing his gnarling face against the mesh and trying to gnaw and scratch his way out. The entire car ride there, Raisin was barking, scratching, and angrily gnawing at the mesh. We were both terrified that he'd actually succeed in getting out and then take out all his little doggie anger on us. Thankfully, he did not.
To repay Hannah for the favor, I agreed to help her and her boyfriend change the bandages on their injured cat. Little did I know how fucking TRAUMATIC that was going to be for me. I wouldn't say I handle blood well, much less mangy, festering animal wounds. I basically helped one of them hold the scratching, biting, crying cat down, while whoever wasn't helping me hold the cat down removed the bandage, applied alcohol, gave the cat a shot directly into the wound (I want to vomit just thinking about it), and then attempted to re-dress the wound. The cat wriggled its way free I'd say about five times, mostly because, when Hannah and I were holding the cat down, we'd rather let go than get the shit scratched out of us by freaking-out-cat. The best (worst) part was that during this process, Hannah's hand accidentally slipped and her nail went DIRECTLY INTO THE WOUND. Blood proceeded to gush, cat proceeded to cry, and I proceeded to gag. It was... an experience. I can now confirm that law school, as opposed to medical school, was the right choice for me. Fucking gross.
Other than dealing with infected, mangy animals, everything's been going okay. My boss left a week ago, and he doesn't get back until about ten days before I leave. So the last week, I've been working from home/coffee shops, and that hasn't worked out so well (super unproductive), so I think I'll be going back to the office more next week. Which will be nice, particularly if my coworker is back from his week-long work trip to the south. Being in my room in the office all alone is simply no fun.
So that's my update. Ticks and festering wounds. And yet, I'm still having a good time. I must really love this place.
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