Sometimes, if I don’t want to do something, I sing a song about it. As long as I can continue to think up words to the song about not wanting to do the thing it is I have to do, I don’t have to do the thing.
I have the procrastination techniques of a three year old.
That is a horrid title. It makes me sound like a lady of the night with itchy nether-regions, whose origin she cannot track. Let it be known: THIS IS MOST DEFINITELY NOT THE CASE. It also sounds like the title of a bad Nancy Drew book, which sort of is the case in a strictly metaphorical sense. I don’t think I used any of the words in the previous sentence correctly at all, but that is a matter I CANNOT BE TRIFLED WITH.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that we (we being myself, my mom, my doctor, a dermatologist in San Francisco, and my surgeon) have solved the poorly titled Case of the Mystery Rash. It turns out, my mystery rash was/is an allergic reaction to one of the substances used in my surgery, most likely Benzoin, the tincture they swab over the site and surrounding area to ward off bacteria and help the bandages adhere to the skin. Basically, I am allergic to surgery.
WHO IS ALLERGIC TO SURGERY??!!?
OF COURSE it would ME. Of course. Naturally.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to research that Shingles vaccine I heard tale of so that I may never experience such a fiery, itching, painful sensation on my skin in any way shape or form ever again.
I love that after I’ve watched 72 minutes of video, it forces me to get up and do something with my life!
The problem is, that “something” I want to do with my life is watch Friday Night Lights ALL DAY LONG. And that makes me hate TVShack.
The tag on the pants said “skinny jeans.” The receipt said “jeggings.” What have I done?
I would describe the amount of pain I experienced this morning as “Is that Jesus? Is he coming for me? And if it’s not, could you please flay my skin off with this knife? I think that would hurt less than what’s going on right now.”
The doctors think that I have an Exthanem Rash (who knows if that’s the correct spelling) from a bacterial infection in my toe that is not healing. That is, of course, only the latest theory. First, it was contact dermatitis from my surgical bandage, then Shingles, now this. I like to just call it “The Mystery Rash of Death.” Basically, my skin feels like it is ON FIRE. I am half expecting a demon to rise up from it one of these days, because it feels like evil is living under my skin.
So please, internet, have mercy on a girl and send all jokes, funny internet videos, or other cheerful things that will distract me to firstname.lastname@example.org
If any come in, I will compile them all into a “Things to Make You Feel Better” post that we can all benefit from for days to come.