There is the regional bad news which goes like this: the vigilantes arrived yesterday adding yet more complexity to an already complex situation. And in case you haven’t been following along, the vigilantes have been fighting their own armed and bloody war against the bad guys complete with doing crazy things like posting dead bodies on plastic chairs at busy intersections in time for the morning rush hour. But thankfully this kind of stuff has been happening mostly in the south of Michoacan.

But now they are here.

Everybody justifiably wonders what is going to happen next. Businesses are highly concerned because traffic into the city is going to slowdown if the people that normally come here to shop, eat, and play now have to worry about vigilante roadblocks in addition to the already existing Federale roadblocks.

So here is the current scorecard: The Marine Corp left. The Federales are back. The Army is still here. And as I said, the vigilantes arrived yesterday.

The game plan appears to be something like this: The Federales, Army, and vigilantes are going to let the 2 groups of bad guys keep killing one another. When at some point there appears to be a winner; then the good guys will step in and take out the remaining bad guys. I suppose given other alternatives that’s some sort of viable strategy.

And then there is the more local (local) bad news. I tripped going up the stairs 2-3 days ago and took a major chunk out of my shin. Those metal stairs to the third floor are going to be the death of me yet. A few months back I about ripped my left toe off, catching it in a tread while falling down the stairs.

Sandals, cocktail hour and the stairs made out of metal bars could have been a lethal combination. Especially if I hadn’t caught myself and instead had done a head plant on the hard tile floor at the base of the steps. I still ended up with a major wound but thankfully lived to tell the tale that blood, pain, and suffering tends to lead even the most obtuse to cautiousness.

But falling up the stairs? Carrying laundry? In the morning? No way. But as it turns out you can fall up the stairs. If you’re wearing sandals on slippery metal bars, in a hurry, and carrying stuff. Now it sucks that I have to be cautious while climbing the stairs as well. Insane. And so wrong.

Yet the reality of having my left shin connect so forcibly with the protruding metal bar that after the mists of pain parted I looked down to see – to my horror – a dime sized hole and bone. White bone. Surprisingly the pain only lasted an hour or so. I sussed out the wound with alcohol and wrapped it up with a paper towel and bound it with the ubiquitous white, waterproof tape that has been one of my steadfast medical supplies for years.

At lunch time I went out and bought proper bandages then called my mother. She has been providing first rate medical services and advice for ever. She was the only person I called when I cut off off part of my right index finger in a table saw accident. Fortunately she was living close by and was able to bind it up with the most genius open splint bandage thing.That particular wound was open and bled for a month but it never got infected. The emergency room people probably would have either killed me with incompetence or some such deadly infectious disease like MRSA. (Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot – I am in Mexico so I’d probably be okay.)

I am limping today though. My ankle has decided that the trauma to the shin bone requires some kind of, in memorium, sympathetic response. Looking on the bright side, it is better to have a swollen ankle and a solitary puncture wound then to have multiple; thinking back to my dog (plural) encounter in the valley a few days ago. Unsupervised, an encounter that could have gone so (so) wrong.

I need to quit dicking around with this blog and go do some real work. Cocktail hour is a mere 1 hour and 45 minutes away.