a peek inside the fishbowl

It’s become a regular thing. I have the same dream once or twice (or more?) a month. It’s almost always the same, but with variations of the details of the scene.

I’m at university. I’m sharing an apartment or dorm with all kinds of people. I don’t know most of them. Sleeping arrangements are hodge-podge and weird: some bedrooms are large, some are small, there are mattresses on the floor and pullout couches. I can’t believe I live here. And there is always always always a problem with the bathroom. Either it’s filthy, too filthy to even look at it, or it’s really bizarre, like two-seater toilets (to share with a friend?) or the bathroom stalls are missing three walls out of four.

In the end I find myself standing there, I have to go, and I know there is no way in hell I’m using this bathroom.

–

I just returned from the doctor’s. Emma has a wart on the bottom of her foot and we needed to get it taken care of. I should have Googled in advance in order to prepare myself for the news. Do you know what my options were?

1) Apply topical wart cream every other night, soak the foot in warm water alternate nights, and file wart away bit by bit… for 30-60 days.

2) Have the doctor apply liquid nitrogen to the wart. This is the more painful option, and would require us to return 4 – 6 times, with two week intervals in between each visit.

Guess which one we picked?

“How much will this hurt?” asked Emma.

“A little bit,” said Dr.C.

“A teeny weeny bit?” asked Emma hopefully.

“No, but it will hurt a little bit.”

And so we commenced the application of “this smokey stuff that looks like water.” She cried. Sarah complained about the noise. Emma got an inflated rubber glove for her troubles.

We’ll be back in two weeks. Godhelpme.