Spent the last few days drinking lemonade, taking care of cats, city wanderings, hitting up the Puerto Rican festival for carnival rides and people-watching, late night coffee, getting frustrated with the male species, Indian food with my sister, meeting my probation officer, walks to Edgewater, wondering why I can hear the Paramore concert from a back porch that is 2 miles away, and worrying about my dad. He's not getting any worse, but he's not getting better. They've given him 7 pints of blood already and are running test after test.
I used to donate blood when I was in high school even though I'm deathly terrified of needles and the last few times I've been anemic and such low blood pressure (because I don't stress myself much) I haven't been able to do it. I think I might try to do it again.