the entry about a mishap that shouldn't have been

drats! it seems like my momentum for work and gym couldn't have been more short-lived, only if it hadn't been impeded by some external force of drunken stupor and bad judgement. i arrived home a little past midnight, slightly inebriated after two pints of the better german erdinger.

by the usual routine, i would wheel around to the back of the house, rap on the window of my maid's room, and gently rouse her with my imploring pleas of "can you open the backdoor please?". incidentally, she wasn't in her room; she'd stayed the night over at my brother's.

key-less, i resorted to calling my folks' mobile phones a couple times. when it was to no avail, i dialed the home phone a number of times, in the hopes of them waking up by the deafening ring tones. when i was still lumbering outside after numerous tries, i attempted yelling their names in a hushed whisper, but after a while, i knew it wasn't going to work either.

road-weary and eager to collapse into my bed after a hard day's work, an implausible idea struck me. i reached for the ladder and positioned it under my room's toilet's window, which was on the second floor. i grabbed a wiry-looking receptacle i found in the store room, climbed to the top landing of the ladder, and attempted to hook the device over the window's handle. once having done that, i mustered all the strength i had in me, beer-goggled and all, and pulled myself upwards with the hook, in hopes of sidling along the window ledge and sliding through the window. that plan flopped, and the back of my head struck the wall, as i slipped and fell seven feet from the ground. fast forward a couple minutes later, i am in the hospital wing with a reported eight-cm laceration which required immediate attention.

sulking after realizing my jeans were stained with my blood

a drip was needed because i suffered huge loss of blood.

i was wondering why it wasn't blood transfusion instead?

still blood-soaked after changing the pillow for the third time.

here's pictures of the bloodied scene at ground zero when i got back home the following day, coupled with sixteen fresh stitches. ironically, in the franticness of trying to get inside the house the night before, i am home-bound for the next week.

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