Not Dead
I did, in fact, recover from the plague. (I'm pretty sure it was the flu, with a brief segue into bronchitis that was curbed by going to the doctor and whining until she gave me medicine.) Now I'm just busy with school and so forth.
This week I had to write a post in the voice of a Canterbury Tales character for my English class's message board. I signed up for the Miller, mostly because I was too late to be the Wife of Bath, and it turns out I think it was a good choice. (The Wife of Bath is very complex, but also tells dick jokes; the Miller just tells dick jokes. Much easier.)
I feel like I've had a lot of fun the last several weeks, but for some reason the only thing I really remember doing is going to see Coraline with Dana. Which was certainly fun! But not really enough fun to explain my overall feeling of recent funness. (We also went shopping, which was still fun, but not quite as much, because I am the antiBarbie. Shopping is hard, let's go do math.)
Two of my gallbladder scars (did I ever describe them? there are two bigger ones ((about an inch)) in the middle of my belly, and two little ones ((less than a half inch)) off to the right-hand side, and the two in question are the two little ones) have recently taken up a new hobby: ITCHING LIKE CRAZY. I do not entirely approve. I feel like this would have been appropriate behavior earlier in the healing process, but it's been almost five months. Get over it, scars. Oh well, at least I don't have phantom gallbladder pain or anything.
Apparently I'm working on a scheme to involve at least one parenthetical comment in each paragraph. I hadn't realized. (Whoops, almost skipped this one.) Oh wow, I'm tired. TO BED.
This week I had to write a post in the voice of a Canterbury Tales character for my English class's message board. I signed up for the Miller, mostly because I was too late to be the Wife of Bath, and it turns out I think it was a good choice. (The Wife of Bath is very complex, but also tells dick jokes; the Miller just tells dick jokes. Much easier.)
I feel like I've had a lot of fun the last several weeks, but for some reason the only thing I really remember doing is going to see Coraline with Dana. Which was certainly fun! But not really enough fun to explain my overall feeling of recent funness. (We also went shopping, which was still fun, but not quite as much, because I am the antiBarbie. Shopping is hard, let's go do math.)
Two of my gallbladder scars (did I ever describe them? there are two bigger ones ((about an inch)) in the middle of my belly, and two little ones ((less than a half inch)) off to the right-hand side, and the two in question are the two little ones) have recently taken up a new hobby: ITCHING LIKE CRAZY. I do not entirely approve. I feel like this would have been appropriate behavior earlier in the healing process, but it's been almost five months. Get over it, scars. Oh well, at least I don't have phantom gallbladder pain or anything.
Apparently I'm working on a scheme to involve at least one parenthetical comment in each paragraph. I hadn't realized. (Whoops, almost skipped this one.) Oh wow, I'm tired. TO BED.