Yesterday was a full day; the sun was shining, we had a lot of going and doing and seeing people and enjoying the outdoors and whatnot. Eventually I went out with a friend for a girls’ dinner, then came home and Otto left to go watch basketball with some friends. (Tag-team parenting is my favorite.) I hung out with both kids, then Monkey went to bed and Chickadee and I watched some TV together and then she went to bed. I puttered around for a bit and then went to get ready for bed, myself.
The older you get, the longer your nighttime routine becomes. Right, ladies? I used to brush my teeth and then hop into bed. Now I also have to wash my face and smear gunk around my eyes and moisturize and peer at my various freckles and bumps. A few years ago I started developing these weird freckle-things every so often: they’re red (!) and raised and—sadly—permanent, though pretty small, and I haaate them. A chat with my doctor basically yielded a diagnosis of “yep, getting old sucks” and that was that.
So last night I was removing my shirt and realized I had YET ANOTHER new freaky freckle over one of my ribs, only upon closer inspection I ascertained that my new freckle had legs. Should this ever happen to you, I recommend screaming loudly, tearing through your drawer for the tweezers, swift removal/flushing of the offender, and then a full-body check conducted while still dancing the squirmy Dance Of Ick.
[Updated to add: Found a second one just now, in a location which I shall not name. Be right back, gotta go take an acid bath and burn my house down.]