I was out back trying to heat up the compost pile so that like a fire it's heat can sustain itself, and... well... oops.

I had a gallon tub of hot tap water and I poured it in the old brick barbecue pit that I'm using as a composter, and out the hole in front runs a opossum. I was worried at first that I injured it. Well, at first I laughed very loudly and then I worried. Either way, I'm pretty sure that the water wasn't hot enough to burn the opossum, and even though the opossum only fled and never squealed (like they did when I hit them with a tomatoe), to ease my mind I held my hand under the faucet for half a minute with the hot water and while the heat was uncomfortable I was uninjured.

I feel old. Last week, a 16 year old added me to their friends list. That in itself did not make me feel old. What made me feel old was that she was born in 1990.

Outside of that, there are many things contributing to me feeling old nowadays. I walk around with a cane, sometimes with a slow and laboured gait. My hair is grey. I regularly talk in decades rather than years. I've found my self starting sentences with "Back in my day...". I've become more forgetful (if that was possible) and my mind just doesn't work as fast as it used to. Health problems are one of my favorite conversation topics, and if you want to you can see my scars.

I'm 32, but I often hear it said you're only as old as you feel. In which case, I'm really 78.

I'm lucky to be alive. I mean that in the most real sense.

I'm lucky. I'm so fucking lucky that it's practically unbelievable.

I lived in my car and then on the street when I was constantly losing time and I somehow managed not to get killed. In fact, I was still able to use my wits to l get out of several situations where that was a likely outcome.

I was completely lost, and didn't really have anyone close to me for most of that time. If I had fallen in close with a junkie, I would have become a heroin addict. I would have done just about any drug that was put in front of me at that point. But somehow, I managed to avoid getting an addiction.

My luck didn't stop or start there. I was severely burned as a child, but not only survived but miraculously avoided serious burns to my face. My roommate on the burn unit, Alfonso, was not so lucky, he didn't make it.

I lost a lot of time and almost flunked out of high school. But I made it through by the skin of my teeth. I passed without turning in most of my homework. Somehow. Graduated 313th out of 317 students.

I fell in with purpleglitter and her friends, who took me off the street and gave me the means of learning the skills that lead to my short stretch of decent employment which in turn has allowed me to collect ssdi instead of ssi.

Being able to get assistance without ending up again on the street is another stroke of luck. And at this point, my still having a place to live is astounding.

And I'm still here to live in it. I've tried to kill myself too many times, and came very close to succeeding on a few occasions. But I'm still here. Somehow.

I have seen my share of bad things and been my share of bad places, but I am blessed. It's utterly amazing that things turned out so well for me. I'm so very incredibly lucky. I feel I must have one of those guardian angels like the characters that won't die regardless of how much you shoot at them on Star Trek.

I took off my shoes and socks and noticed the burn on my left foot has formed a giant fleshy blister. I guess the burn was worse than I thought. It is a second degree burn. OUCH!

I was carrying a pot of boiling water and spilt a little on my foot. In pain I jumped, causing me to spill some on my other foot. Jumping further around, I scattered the remaining water around the kitchen. I ran into the bathroom and quickly soaked my feet in cold water.

My feet are bright red and sting like hell, but the burns aren't blistering, so I don't think they're that serious.

I burnt my lungs. Ow.