Oh, Taylor Swift. Your lyrics continue to resonate with me like a soccer mom with a secret crack addiction.
Decided today, after feeling like the literal weight of the world – nay, the solar system – was on my back (between my shoulder blades), that the next time I get paid I am splurging on a massage. I don’t normally make it rain on such things, but I’ve been so tired and stressed out lately that I think it’d be a good idea for myself and those around me.
(Seriously, ask my co-workers.)
No word on the MRI yet, but I imagine if it was something terrible I would have heard something by now. Which pretty much means I’m going in for a blood analysis to check for venous insufficiency. There’s a technical term for the analysis, but fuck if I know what it is. Either way, it’s probably gonna hurt. Yesterday, the MRI tech gave me the contrast for the second set of pictures. She found a vein in my hand after pounding it for a while to make a vein appear, and then said, “I’ve heard about people like you! I’ve never seen veins like this! Normally I would put the contrast in quickly, but I have to go slow with you because it looks like this vein might burst.” Which was both not painful and very comforting, if you’re into that sort of thing.
And so tonight it’s me, reisling, quinoa and edamame (with lemon and garlic… delish!), and a date with Netflix. It feels so good to be home.
Have a good night, everyone.