I called to make an appointment with my dermatologist, whom I've not seen since 2003, and learned that the earliest appointment available is July 26, which is fine as long as my leg isn't all gangrened by then.


The sore is located between my shin and calf on the inside of my leg and is about the size of a pencil eraser. It feels strange, itches and won't heal. I'm concerned it may be skin cancer, but that seems like an odd place to get skin cancer. I tend to assume the worst though, so I'm just about convinced that's what it is.


The nurse is supposed to call me back today; maybe she can give me an idea of what it might be. Maybe they can get me in sooner before staff infection sets in and my leg has to be amputated. Maybe.


And yeah, I know that gangrene is due to lack of blood flow and that staff would infect my whole body and kill me like that lady who got the bad pedicure, but so what. So my post isn't medically accurate.


I also need the doc to look at my ear. It's really fucked up, my ear. I've actually had this place on it that I constantly pick at for about two years. Yeah, I know it's gross, but I'm a picker and this I blame on anxiety. I doubt my ear will fall off though B has told me numerous times that it will. I hope he's wrong because I don't think I'd look so hot with a missing leg and no ear. Looking hot is more important than walking and hearing(?). Would I still be able to hear on that side?


Both places are on my right side. Coincidence? Who knows. Perhaps I really should be making an appointment with my shrink instead of my dermatologist.

God bless freelancing.

I've been craving french fries and ranch dressing all day, and I finally got them. French fries and ranch are good for Mondays, especially when you're returning from a three-day weekend.

I just looked through the pictures on my Text America site, and it's amazing to see how much Ryder has changed. I can't believe how big he is or how fast he's grown. I'm sure I'll be saying this same thing a year from now.


Also, massages are totally worth it (even if you return to the office with your eyelashes all clumped and mashed together).


Finally, please remember to grab your keys off the monster Scott toilet paper holder when exiting the Target bathroom. Otherwise, you could end up at the check-out totally confused, with a large salesperson in a red shirt and khaki pants checking with customer service's lost and found. Once you find your keys on that gigantic toilet paper holder, you'll then have to call off the dogs who've decided to help you find them and explain that the mystery's solved; you simply left your keys with Scott.

My diet, along with other obvious external factors like sleep, probably has much to do with how I'm feeling these days. Truth be told, I'm leading up to and attempting to justify my decision to hit the spa during lunch today.


It was a last minute massage appointment, made hastily 45 minutes in advance, but I'm glad I scheduled it because this time it's the back that ails me in addition to the tension headaches. Have I mentioned that even my big toe hurts? Perhaps I need a new mattress and a toe pillow?


And since ~A suggested I mention boobs, as Lorie has recently. For the record: My boobs are fine. They are exceptions to my body's current rule of aches and pains; they may be gifted with super powers. At this point I cannot be certain.

I was only able to watch portions of last night's interview, but my mom TiVO'd it so I can watch the rest later. I don't think I missed much, as most of the highlights were on the Internet.


I'm going to whine now and bore you some more because, like I said, I've not much to write about these days. Whining: I seem to have a permanent tension headache. I may OD on Advil soon. Sharing: I'm glad it's Friday, and I'm practicing gratitude. It's a good exercise.

I can't help it ... my television will so not be playing Bob the Builder at 8 p.m. CT. I'll be watching this Dateline interview with Britney. I'm working our entire schedule around it tonight. I obviously don't have TiVO.


It's so bad, ya'll, but I can't help watching the gum smackin' and the talk of being "country" as an excuse for driving with your baby in your lap. I'm seriously not judging; it's just sort of like watching an accident. And when I feel down, I'm just glad I don't have her life.


I might be going to hell.

I never knew that finding a single cheerio in one's purse, particularly during a very intense meeting, could make the entire day shine more brightly.