Tricky bastards…

Good morning. Good afternoon. Good evening. The nose can be said to be one of the ‘tricky bastards’ of the Human map. We can always see it, but not see what’s on it (not unless it’s insanely huge, in which case it looks huge-er by vantage point). It has hairs in it, but their not really hairs but follicles for catching scent. And when it’s dry out, I don’t know about you all, but I can feel everyone of those follicles growing and shifting inside my nose. That, and the boogers forming. Which leads me to picking at the inside of my nose all day. It’s not pretty. It’s not refined. It’s no where near lady-like. But when have I ever been any of those to begin with.

I have thankfully put my first load of clothes in the washer. I think it’s been a month since I’ve had clean clothes to change into. Closer to two-and-a-half weeks.

Everyone else in the house seems to be hot, or at least warm. I’ve still got chills. My forehead is rather warm. My fingers feel ice cold. I didn’t know any better, I’d think I were dying. But that’s silly talk…

I think I cut myself cleaning up after everyone else’s BBQ fun yesterday. I was, of course, in no mood for such frivolity. Holidays are like ordinary days with more smiling people.

Les Stroud is my hero. He just is. I don’t know if this is just all that repressed ancient primate talking, but any guy that knows that many ways to light a fire is more than okay in my book. (There’s a marathon on. Sue me. XP)

One of these days, I have to get up the night energy to go out and dumpster dive. It’s hard to do when you get woken up by someone else’s routine every morning. Not to mention that I have a sun-facing window that shines right onto my bed. I do believe that there’s a reason my bed is situated where it is… tricky bastards… trickytricky bastards… …

Thank you, and have a nice day.

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