this was a weekend non-work day?

OK, so I get to take weekdays off a lot of the time, but still, there's something about working on weekends that leaves me feeling slightly deprived.

Nightmare morning visit to the city centre. About a million pedestrians all busy ignoring road-rules and seemingly intent on becoming accident statistics. About the same number of minibus taxis doing the same. Me and the woman I was meeting to assess feral pigeon injuries and catching possibilities were very likely the only palefaces in the whole city. Followed by afternoon shift at the centre, where I never quite got into the rhythm, so it was all a stuff-up. And finishing off with an even more nightmare visit to the inner-city tenement area to fetch a feral pigeon with a broken leg. Figure that if there is ever a reason why I would stop being the local mad-pigeon-lady, it will be the insalubrious and dangerous areas that they thrive in. Even though my secret theory is that being suicidal actually makes me bomb-proof. If death is attractive, then the possibility of it happening at random isn't that frightening. And it takes away the guilt and planning aspects too.

Didn't stop me though from being very nervous about the little mongoose in the clinic this afternoon, who was passionately in love with my sandal-clad feet. He was scent-marking and nosing between my toes, and inside my denims, and far too interested in my bare skin for comfort. Not fearing death is a lot easier than dealing with the likelihood of small teeth and painful bites...