My ear is hurting again. I think it’s a general reoccurring infection. A late-night cool-down shower is probably the cause of its flare up today. I’m hoping that some decongestant/pain-killers will help.

It was so freaking hot (and still is) that Eric turned on the AC at about 1:30 last night. He couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep, but instead of laying in bed for several hours I had been up until 1 am, reading. I hate this place sometimes…

Scared a year off of Eric’s life yesterday. I’ll tell you the story: Last night we had big T-bone steaks and black beans for dinner. Our “common china” is a set of old Corell plates. They are Eric’s, given to him by his parents when they bought new. I’m sure every unmarried twenty-something has a similar set. While we ate, we watched the movie “Final Destination.” Not a bad movie, btw, though it requires a healthy dose of suspension of disbelief. If you don’t know of it, the premise of the movie involved a group of people who dodge death in a plane crash only to have death come for them later. The characters end up dying off in bizarre accidents; most of the accidents involving things breaking. Well, the movie is over and while its rewinding, I gather up my plate and head for the kitchen sink. Eric does the same, walking ahead of me from the living room. Just as I step on to the kitchen floor, the only floor in our apartment that isn’t carpeted, the plate slips from my clumsy hand and shatters–right behind Eric. My poor husband. Good thing he has a strong heart.
In slightly related news, when I mean the plate shattered, I mean in a million very small pieces. I need to vacuum because there’s even minute shards in near my computer desk here. “No bare feet” was the order of the night, but I forgot about it this morning. Something got stuck in my foot. It wasn’t a piece of plate, it was a freaking burr from some prickly plant. How the heck did that get in here?

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