It's been a weird weekend.
I found out that the sore thing in my foot is an in-growing wart right where my heel strikes the ground as I walk. The horrible thing is too big to burn out, even with repeated sessions of dry ice, and will have to be cut out by a dermatologist. I have to wait another three weeks for that fun experience. It hurts to walk, therefore no gym or dancing, therefore am putting on weight and feeling like a bump on a log. Bleh.
Ken flew off to Chicago for work, via a day's stop-over in New York for his patented "run-till-you-drop" tourist photoshoot. He'll be back in a week, and Josh is agitating to sleep in his place "so you don't get lonely."
I went to my sister-in-law's 40th birthday party, which was a celebration of chocolate. There must be something wrong with me - aside from some strawberries and the chocolate fountain, nothing appealed.
Despite the bleh, I managed writing.
77,500 / 100,000
(77.0%)