a truth

I hate getting ready for bed. There are too many things to do and it takes too long. It would help if my bathroom's sink faucet would give hot water instantly.

I have to get my wisdom teeth removed as they've been giving me a constant headache for nearly three weeks. I read a news article online about a teenage girl who died while having her wisdom teeth removed, and people keep telling me weird things, like they had their wisdom teeth removed and woke up puking or sobbing. I'm sure both will happen to me. I wonder if it'll be like when they gave me morphine at the hospital, and the nurse told me it was normal to feel nervous. I guess I could deal with a few minutes of extreme anxiety. I do every day anyway! Ha... ha... ha...

the cheese stands alone

On Sunday I was having breakfast with my brother and his fiance after church, and M sort of bemoaned having had to spend Friday night watching movies by herself because my brother went out with his friends. It was weird to me because I did the same thing that night, except all day at work I'd been looking forward to staying home and watching movies by myself. My mom is ziplining through Central America, so I had the house to myself, I had cool new popcorn that pops in its own bowl, champagne, and Something Borrowed. (Don't judge me for my romcom addiction. I ended up changing my mind and watching Eclipse instead, but that's not the point.) And then that got me thinking about all the other things I do by myself that just feel natural to me, like riding my bike at the beach, shopping, sitting outside in the sun at work and wondering why someone would ask why I'm just sitting there. Can't a person just sit somewhere by themselves and think? And what if I've been doing things, living life, by myself for so long that if someone came along and wanted to share it with me, I didn't want to? Am I going to be that single aunt who wears weird clothes and has an old beat up car and gives the kids ice cream for dinner? Actually, Nanny Silvia would never do that ice cream bit. But I would let Boots watch Up as many times as he wanted. Oh, here we are. I'm the cow and Boots is little critter. Too bad there's no "Just Me and My Aunt" book.