This fucking city is trying to kill us.

The Bostonland Area would like to see both my partner and I dead, worm food, standing in the clearing at the end of the road, drawing our last rattling breaths, pushing up daisies, hedgehogs bringing our mail, etc.

Its weapon of choice for punching my ticket? Cars. I've already been both hit and nearly hit whilst biking, and I get the distinct feeling that every time I cross the street, I'm putting my life in the hands of drivers who really don't seem to give a shit about committing a little vehicular manslaughter (negligent though it may be). I used to think that very few people actually wanted to kill someone else with their cars; now I'm not so sure.

My partner, after three days of a pretty bad cold, has settled into what might indeed be pneumonia. Her doctor is a busy enough man that her previous, scheduled, routine visits to his office (two hours of transit away on a good day) have both entailed three-hour office waits. Going there for an emergency, when it's just gonna take five or six hours anyway, is a bit of a joke. What a fun way to start the damned new year, spitting into every drain in the house and, oh, what's that? Blood in the mucus? Don't mind if I fucking do, Boston. Why didn't you just "Final Destination" our asses when the heating oil guys showed up to fill our tank and sat in their truck--with its many boldly coloured and coded risk diamonds pertaining to the various "don'ts" of their liquid cargo--and SMOKED THEIR CIGARETTES.

That would have been dramatic, Boston. This "wasting sickness" and the mundanity of pedestrian/car death just don't seem to suit you, know what I'm sayin'?