What’s this? A new post?

Oh, my dear blog. It has been a while.

Here are a few things:

– I have realized that I am half old lady, half child. I can’t stand the majority of YOUTHS I encounter, even so far as thinking, “Damn kids had better not step on my lawn.” But then, I eat food marketed to toddlers and have little singalongs to myself.

Maybe it’s both an old lady (senile) and child (carefree) thing that I talk to myself. A LOT. I mean, working from home lends a certain amount of solitude to my life, but, by God, I have started having conversations with myself IN PUBLIC. “Hmm. They don’t have the candles I want. Those are cute. But, oh no, I’m not paying that much.” Out loud.

– There is nothing that makes me clean up and clean out more than having people over. I’ve planned a party for Saturday night and let me tell you: I have thrown away more crap in the past three days than I have in the past two years. That old birthday card from four years ago? TOSS IT. Thank you card from a girl with whom I am no longer friends? EIGHTY-SIX THAT MOTHER. Expired coupons for Sally Beauty Supply? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING KEEPING THOSE?

*ahem*

– I had an ingrown eyelash. Oh yes, an eyelash that literally had a layer of skin growing over it. What the what? My eye doctor tried to fish it out to no avail. A month later his wife tried to get it out with the same results (note: she is also an eye doctor and they run a practice together, I didn’t just stop by their house and have her go at my eye).  So, they sent me to an oculoplastic surgeon. He looked at it and told me he’d try to get it out, for me to not try to be a hero, and to let him know if it hurt.

Well, it did. But I wasn’t about to pussy out. He said, “Man, this sucker is THICK. Usually they are little and wispy.” He also kept asking if I was okay and, with tears streaming out of only that eye, I said yes. I mean, it definitely wasn’t the WORST pain ever. He couldn’t get it out at the first go ’round. He patted my arm and told me, “You are tough as nails! Most people would jump out of their seat.”

I know.

So they shot my eyelid with lidocaine (for which the tech held my embarassingly sweaty hand). No biggie. He dug and dug and got that sucker out. I am ashamed that I didn’t ask to see it. Okay, actually I wish I could have KEPT it. In a little locket.

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