I desperately need a pedicure. but have spa social phobia, too many language barriers.
I totally need to clean my house, but feel too overwhelmed, and don’t even know where to start:
I just keep rotating clean and dirty clothes from the piles, and stepping over all the kid crap in our living room.
Yesterday, I went to Target, and waded through the college mafia in denim shorts with suspenders and jeans that cut off ankle circulation. I felt so lost, I actually stood in front of the Sound Scapes stations with all of the New Agey-Fake-Celtic CDs and pondered buying one. You know something is really wrong if I leave Target spending less than one hundred dollars. It was shocking. But I did get these:
This morning, I had to get an MRI. I have a weird genetic heart thing called bicuspid aortic valve. I’m fine, they just check me regularly, and one day, might switch out the funky valve with part of a pig. Weird, huh? This guy was in the waiting room:
The day got better when I came home, and called a new author, Emma Rathbone for an interview about her debut novel, The Pattern Of Paper Monsters. She was lovely, and I adored the book. I will be posting an article about our conversation tomorrow. Audrey got sneaky while I was talking, and found my coffee: