The good news is that my life is full of Birthday cake, which I have been eating non-stop for the last 3 days. Like for every other meal.
The other good news is that I did get my beloved palm router… and in fact almost got two of them since both MysteryMan and Ricky clued in since I was incessently talking about how the big router scared the bajeezus out of me and how much I wanted to route me some dovetails.
And the extremely good news is that even though I’m o-ffically a year older, I have not found any new gray hairs on my head. Yet.
The bad news is I haven’t gotten a chance to use my new router yet because my life has been full of all kind of life things and not so much fun things.
The other bad news is that we are booked freaking solid this weekend and I probably won’t get to use my router until sometime next week, which is like torture… although the fact that MysteryMan will be joining me a year older and we will be cooking out with all kinds of family Friday, Saturday, and Sunday definitely makes up for it.
I think I’m allergic to Birthday Cake. Normally, I would say that and it would be a joke… like, ha ha, my butt is allergic to birthday cake and swells up every time I eat it.
But this is not a joke. For the last three days I thought that a killer mosquito was eating me alive while I was sleeping because I would wake up with like 10 new mosquito bites every day. Then yesterday I woke up with seven bumps just on my knee and while I was tearing into my skin until it bled like some sort of wild animal and planning mosquito hunts throughout the house, MysteryMan suggested that maybe this wasn’t normal.
Especially because he sleeps right next to me with no covers on and was untouched.
So finally I googled it, and do believe, in fact, that I have hives. Hives. Can I just say, W. T. F?? And the only thing that I could find on the list of shit that causes hives that I had been ingesting regularly for the last four days was berries. As in the fresh raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries that topped my birthday cake.
There is probably some lesson in this as to why you aren’t supposed to eat birthday cake for every other meal for four days in a row.
And I have a job interview tomorrow. Nothing says “please hire me” like scabbed up arms. Sa-weet.