Cursed, I Tell You
so, let's see. when i turned 22, i scraped and bruised my forearm and twisted my ankle so badly that i was terrified that i had broken it. last year, i was having a pleasant soirée in the yard when i was bitten on the face by so many noxious bugs that both my eyes swelled shut for a week.
today i sprained my wrist, effectively keeping me from driving or knitting. or having the strength to activate the cold compress.
just a little insight into why i hate and fear my birthday.
*resumes hiding under desk*
(oh, yes and am going into dc tonight. so if terrorists bomb the city to bits ((which if they have any historical accuracy they should, see previous entry)), tell the rescue teams to look for me in the rubble of the red line, somewhere between shady grove and chinatown. you might also want to tell my mom.)
today i sprained my wrist, effectively keeping me from driving or knitting. or having the strength to activate the cold compress.
just a little insight into why i hate and fear my birthday.
*resumes hiding under desk*
(oh, yes and am going into dc tonight. so if terrorists bomb the city to bits ((which if they have any historical accuracy they should, see previous entry)), tell the rescue teams to look for me in the rubble of the red line, somewhere between shady grove and chinatown. you might also want to tell my mom.)