A decent amount of stuff to share, yet little of it's very interesting. At 31 I have just recovered from the chicken pox. I guess I thought I'd somehow cheated the disease, having never had it as a child. But on New Year's Day, I woke up covered in the filthy lesions and spent the remainder of the week looking like a extra from 28 Days Later (complete with a red, pussy eye) and unable to wear anything other than a bathrobe. (The bright side to this situation, of course, was that I enjoyed hour upon hour of reality television and reruns of Designing Women on Lifetime - a hidden blessing, really.) Since then I've been harassed by a neighbor over allegations of mysterious late night noise coming from my condo (unless I'm sleep-dancing, or something, I'm quite certain there is a mistake). And I'm having surgery next week for the first time in my life. It's not major surgery or anything, but it's still surgery dealing with internal organs, and since I'm a gigantic wuss this naturally means I'm secretly sort of terrified. Other than that, it's been business as usual. The greatest thing I have to share is this:
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