People! I am done with the Peace Corps Medical Clearance Packet of Sadness! Will now send it away to meet it’s fate in the bureaucratic underbelly of D.C. Feelings of elation only slightly dampened by irony of fact that I am finally ready to mail this thing away on what turns out to be a national holiday—hence, no postal service. But I’ve never let irony get in the way of celebratory drinking before, and I don’t plan to this time either.
Had a flat tire on the way home from a hike on Saturday. And while I send out my heartfelt thanks to Katrina and Jessica for helping me to change it, I am saddened to report that the money I had saved up to buy a digital camera? That money is now firmly attached to the front axle of my dreaded Taurus. I got to replace not one, but TWO tires. That is EXACTLY what I wanted to spend $180 dollars on this weekend. Oh, wait. No it isn’t.
Realization yesterday that while the bacon band-aids are totally hilarious, there is something sort of sinister about using a picture of meat to cover an actual wound. So, nobody look under my shirt for a couple of days. Not that this is usually a problem for me—I’m just saying.