I had a physical on Tuesday. This seems normal enough. It took a long time because my doctor is rather thorough. I like to believe she is just incredibly interested in my life but I’m pretty sure she is giving me a wellness psych eval. Either way – she’s chatty and enthusiastic. My type of healthcare professional. Anyways – so a physical. Right. Other than having to try NOT TO GIGGLE during my pap (yeah, we’re talking smeeaaarrr here) the whole thing went super smooth. But at the end, when nothing happened, no lumps or bumps or nasty moles were found – something about the situation seemed rather odd. I know you’re supposed to have nothing wrong with you, but it just seems stupid for me to even go in the first place. I could have told you nothing was wrong, but to verify I had a busy lady who touches a lot of regular sick people poking and prodding and inserting and poking some more just to be like “yup, you’re healthy!” I know physicals are preventative. And I’m all for that. But I also think our society is obsessed with healthcare and tests and cures. It is our survival after all. But I’m 24 and I have no complaints so what am i really doing?
I’ve been wearing
tights leggings a lot lately. I got snipped at by an H&M salesperson for calling them tights so… I’m trying to amend my ways. I remember then I first say someone wearing them without a skirt. I was in Illinois and it was the middle of winter and my first thought was WOAH she looks TOTALLY NAKED. I mean – it was Illinois – where I would routinely have to walk to class in below zero weather. And here’s this girl prancing around in very thin, stretchy sweat pants (basically). So I was shocked. I’ve gotten over this but it’s taken me about three years? This was my first outing:
I’m silently (well not anymore) fascinated about how fast or slow toilet paper runs out. I know this is weird. But I AM! Ok so I bought a big pack when I first moved to seattle and it JUST RAN OUT over two months later. Seriously – it just happened – this morning!! I know this has to do with how much claire and I go to the bathroom and how often we are home and blahblah but I choose to ignore most of that science and focus on the magic of not knowing how long we can go without having to buy a new pack. And apparently? In this apartment? It’s over TWO MONTHS. Fan-fucking-tastic. 🙂