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If a helicopter falls in the city
and there’s no one there to tell Claire about it,
does it make a noise?


This afternoon two different people came into the shop and mentioned that a helicopter had landed in the Target parking lot nearby. Which I thought odd, but promptly forgot about it.

I got home hours later and had an email from a client who lives nearby wondering if I knew anything about a helicopter which appeared to be making an emergency landing either in the middle of the street or in the aforementioned parking lot.

And now I want to know what the hell that was about. It’s not everyday a helicopter lands nearby.

Unless, of course, you live near a helicopter landing pad.

I’m awake, sadly, at 2:45 this morning. Funny story, actually.

If by funny I mean really annoying and kind of gross.

I have this habit of picking at things. (Ew!) Like scabs. (Ew!). So tonight around 11:30 I managed to pick off a scab on my forehead. Which started to bleed.

And bleed. And bleed.

We’re talking a little pin-sized wound. And blood everywhere.

I tried everything to make it stop without success. After an hour or so, I finally laid down and tried to clumsily sleep with a paper towel pressed up against my forehead, thinking time and pressure would do the trick.

About an hour later I got up and checked the blood flow. It was no longer dribbling down my nose. It was now spurting out of my forehead.


Since laying down did nothing, I grabbed a new paper towel, slammed it against my forehead, and went to do some searching online. I figured if tilting my head back didn’t work, tilting it forward might.

Now keep in mind this is maybe two fucking hours since the blood started. Not just two hours. Two fucking hours.

So I found some site that basically said if your blood isn’t clotting, just keep putting more and more bandages on it—removing blood-soaked ones can take away any blood clot that may be starting to form. So I figured I’d grab an entire roll of paper towels and just keep sticking more and more to my forehead all night. It wasn’t a good plan, it wasn’t a glamorous plan, but I was running out of ideas.

So before I went about all this, I grabbed a paper towel, stuck it on top of the one already there, and decided to gingerly check on the spurting blood. I peeled away the bandages.


No blood, no spurting, no nothing.

Ten minutes after tilting my head forward it stopped. Ten minutes and two hours after the bleeding started.

Now I have to go clean up the bathroom. Which looks like a scene out of a crime drama. There’s blood spatter everywhere.

Spurting spatter.