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My digestive system is a lost cause, but I may yet be able to salvage my arm.

When the fuck did I come in contact with poison ivy, this is bullshit. I'm not making this up. I have seeping inflamed poison ivy rash on my arm despite having been sick in bed for a preponderance of this ridiculous goddamn week.

(Mom says Wan probably rolled in it. She wants me to not pet dogs anymore or something. Shut up Mom just shut up.)

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Dad is outside waving a bag of yard waste and making up sign language about his yard waste in the direction of my window, while I sit here looking up potential bullshit internet hippie solutions to my stomach and arm problems.

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Dad: So this guy who's getting arraigned tomorrow, he's completely deaf.

Mom: Do you have an interpreter?

Dad: No, but I learned sign language. I do this and it means "plea," this and it means "guilty," and there's this gesture like this where I wave my arms and it means "waive your constitutional rights." It's called a swim.

Mom: They have to give you guys an interpreter.

Dad: No! I know sign language!

Thank you everyone who has sent me nice messages while I have been whining.

And sorry I have not gotten back to the people who have sent me non-disease-related stuff, I will do that as soon as I am less diseased.