1.) I’ve been walking around all week with a large curling iron burn across my forehead. Not one person has said anything about it. I feel like pointing it out to every person I talk to, but then wait to see if they will say something. This thing isn’t some small, easily hidden blemish; I look like Gorbachev, or Harry Potter. Man I so should have walked around all week yelling spells at people.
2.) I also have a lip zit. I’m trying so hard not to mess with it, but it’s annoying, and I’m pretty sure most people think its herpes. Who gets zits right on their lip line anyway? I’ll tell you who, people who get burned by their curling iron Voldemort. It’s been a good week for my looks and vanity.
3.) I think Voldemort is after me know, since I said his name. Crap, I did it again.
4.) It’s really cold. Like single digits. I’m not being a wuss and avoiding going out or anything, but I do spend must of my indoor time under blankets. Also, my nose won’t stop running, and if snot were money, I’d be Scrooge McDuck.
5.) I got a bunch of boots in recently, well pairs of boots, not just singular boots. All are wide-calf; I’ll do a review of each after I have worn them each several times.
6.) Matt and I went on a date Thursday. With each other, not with other people, that would be counter-productive to being married. Unless, I guess, if we were into an open marriage, or swingers, which we aren’t. I don’t like to share, and I’m not that comfortable adding to the list of people who see me naked on a regular bases. I consolidated my doctors down to one who does it all to just to keep the stripping down to a minimum.
7.) I got nothing else, but I’ll probably blog about the date too, so get excited. Not too excited, but an appropriate level of excited would be good. Like, not so excited that you pee yourself, but excited enough your checking back here several times a day and passing blog posts around, ok who am I kidding, if you’ve birthed kids, you have my permission to pee yourself. If you haven’t, well, I think you have problems that my permission won’t make any better.