Jumping Fish

I'm pretty sure the guy with the jumping fish on the bus gave me pink eye. Actually, I know there is no correlation, but the fact that one minute I was watching a man trying to capture his fish on the windowsill and the next my eye started twitching seems like more than a coincidence.

The buses are amazingly clean and air-conditioned so it is unusual to have living creatures squirming nearby. I'm not sure what he was doing with tiny fish in a jar - could have been lunch-but we shared an awkward giggle and I moved over a bit. Then my eye started oozing nastiness. He probably went home and told his family about this crazy lady next to him with an oozing eye.

Folks have asked about how we are doing health wise. Not that I'm superstitious, but I didn't want to announce to the universe that we have not had any adverse reactions to food and we all have been healthy in fear of jinxing us. Now that I'm typing this through one eye with the other resembling a Rocky repercussion, I feel free in saying that overall we are coping well with the food and new germs. Kirt hasn't taken one antacid since we've been here and the food is good and spicy. I took a nice tumble down the hill showing off my walking skills. Nothing is sexier than a short skirt and two bloody knees. Sophie got her jellyfish stings and there have been a few other maladies cured by drinking more water, but now that we know we can get antibiotics from the corner market for six bucks we are set for anything.

I am struck, luckily not in my good eye, by how much conversation revolves around ailments. Just as I try to avoid talking about how busy I am, I try to avoid talking about my aches and pains. I try to remember that I am more interesting than whatever is bugging me. I have more going on in my life and mind than reminders of impermanence in my body.

Not that looking through one eye isn't distracting from everything else that I do. The kids are trying to talk me into an eyepatch; that's what we get for watching too many Marvel movies with Nick Fury. I can't go swimming or appear in public. Malaysians are so kind they would surround me with way too much attention and care.

But, I still enjoyed some amazing curry and naan for breakfast along with a piece of lemon poppyseed cake. I'll curl up with Dostoevsky soon and enjoy an afternoon on the couch trying to make out Russian names through my good eye until the steroids and antibiotics kick in.