I’m so cranky the word “divorce” was bantered about last night. This should make all Kurt’s ex’s, who read this blog secretly, get excited. But don’t. We didn’t really mean it. What happened was I had this thing on my toe. I was sure it was a cyst or a tumor or something that was going to really tick me off for having since I just quit smoking. What a kick in the pants that would be if I quit smoking after all this time and wind up getting cancer anyway. Especially toe cancer. It’d be just my luck.
Kurt said it was just a pimple. That annoyed me. A pimple? A pimple on my toe? Who gets a pimple on her toe?! Now if I would have said I had this thing on my cheek or on my nose. Or even on my butt. I heard people get them there. In which case they are called carbuncles. I have no idea if they are called carbuncles. I don’t even know what a carbuncle is. But it sounds like something some old guy would get on his butt along with the hair on his back and coming out of his nostrils. Gross stuff like that.
One time Kelly had a pimple on her elbow. This was how I knew she’d never make a vet. It had come to a head and so I took a warm wet washcloth and simply washed it away. That caused her to start gagging and she ran into the bathroom where she threw-up. She threw-up from her own body stuff! That’s pretty bad when your own body stuff makes you gag. I said, “Forget a vet. How about being an architect? They make good money.”
Anyway, it’s Day Eleven and we’re still staying married.