I finally broke down and got myself a Kindle Touch a few weeks ago. I was rebellious about it for awhile because I just simply love having books around me. Sometimes the shallow side of me breaks that old rule about not judging a book by its cover and buys old books at antique shops based on good looks alone.
Because, you know? I'm reckless like that.
But I finally decided that I should just get over my rebel self, get with the times, and buy myself an e-reader, reminding myself that I can still buy books from time to time if I desire.
I have not yet regretted my decision. In fact, I think I now have myself a new addiction that goes by the name of Kindle because it is just way too easy to touch that screen ever so delicately and order myself another book. I've always been one to read one book at a time until it's finished, but now? I am currently reading five books on there and one paperback I already had.
So that's pretty much what I've been doing instead of blogging...
Except for yesterday. Yesterday I had a dermatologist appointment and then went to Target and loaded my cart with everything from a five dollar clearance pair of fuzzy slippers to a 24 pack of fruit snacks. I think it's a really great thing that the nearest Target is a good 25 minutes from my house because what is it about that place that makes me want to buy sh*t with reckless abandon?
The dermatologist appointment was just an annual check for spots thing that I've had to do since discovering that basal cell carcinoma on my chest in '09 that was so kind to leave me a little white scar to remember it by. Wear your sunscreen, kids, and don't bake yourself in baby oil or Crisco...Yes, I was once an idiot but I think most all of us were when it came to the sun back then.
I knew I didn't have any new spots because the anal side of me is diligent about checking myself for them now but I like to be reassured that the flat brown mole on my leg that has been there forever and ever is still the same ole harmless mole it always was. And plus, she gives me drugs. For fever blisters. I call them magic pills. I start feeling that dreaded tingle on my lip, pop that pill, and watch that mother disappear before it ever gets a chance to turn me into an ogre with its own phone number and zip code right there on my top lip.
The worst part about the visit is sitting there in nothing but my underwear and giant paper napkin and then rolling around on that exam table in those godforsaken fluorescent lights, exposing every ounce of cellulite on my bare arse. Not my idea of a good time.
But speaking of a good time, Dracen had him one Sunday afternoon down by the creek. I'm not sure where winter went but it sure has been layin' low around here...
Happy Hump Day!