This morning has not started out well. I woke up to find that one of my black-raspberry-picking bug bites, which yesterday was causing half my forehead to swell (not "like, half my forehead," but HALF MY FOREHEAD), this morning has gotten one of my eyelids involved. The droopiness and puffiness of that eye causes my expression to be droopy and crabby, which pop psychology leads me to believe will make me FEEL droopy and crabby, which indeed I do. Plus, in the mirror it looks less like a bug bite and more like age-related wrinkles and sags, which gives me an unwelcome Behold Your Future feeling.
Back in high school I had a brief and poorly-thought-out relationship (I'd call it a "fling," but I think that has racier overtones than the sort of thing I am describing) with a boy named Jay. It ended very, very poorly, and twenty years later we're Facebook friends but only due to (1) the friendship that preceded the poorly-thought-out relationship and (2) my unwillingness to seem like someone who would still be mad twenty years later.
Anyway, when I woke up with the bug bite that leads me one step further on the path of thinking I probably AM someone who will Get My Eyes Done later on, I'd been dreaming that Jay's wife had found out about Jay's brief relationship with me, and she couldn't get past it and was leaving him. I went over to talk about it with her, thinking this was clearly just a silly misunderstanding, that surely a high school relationship that lasted a week was not something to end a marriage over (and besides, had she realized that I was one of perhaps two or three hundred relationships Jay'd had?), and she remained utterly unmoved, and in fact considered my presence on the scene a further indication of the seriousness of the issue. She left, with TWO YOUNG CHILDREN, saying now I "could have him"---with me protesting that although it wouldn't be quite true to say he was the last man on earth I'd ever marry, still it remained the case that I had a husband of my own and didn't consider hers much of a catch.
And then on my way home (this is still the dream), I was one of the few people on the scene when a SCHOOL BUS went UNDER WATER and I had this horrible feeling of "We HAVE to help them" combined with a mental math calculation of how fast the bus was going down plus how far/hard I'd have to swim down under the water to get to it, plus how difficult/impossible it might be to get someone out once I got there, plus the likelihood of me not having enough air to get back to the surface, plus the inadvisability of rescuing a drowning person without the equipment that keeps that person from panickingly holding the rescuer under the water. (Spoiler: a few minutes later we were evidently breathing underwater and we were passing people out of the bus and up to the surface and everyone was fine and in fact eventually we were passing up backpacks and so forth because we might as well while we're down here anyway.)
Back to the actual morning I'm actually having: So then I took benedryl for the bug bite, and coffee for the benedryl, and I feel like I'm working up to a Mood Of Doom here, where I will be BOTH droopily tired AND irritably wired.
Gift ideas for an 8-year-old, part 1 of 2 - I have TWO 8-year-olds to buy for, so I’m going to split it up into two posts. Today will be the things we’re getting for Edward. I dislike saying “Gift id...