Shark Girl woke up, and went to the bathroom. I looked in
the mirror and my jaw dropped in horror. Oh,
no! I thought to myself.
Staring
back at me, besides my drawn and tired face, was a red splotch on my neck. A
red splotch! That could only mean one of two things. Hickey. Or rash.
It is a sad
statement on my life that, when posed with those two options, rash is the more
logical one.
I thought back to last night. I racked
my brain. Is there any possible way I
could claim hickey? Was I involved in some midnight tussle that I knew nothing
about? Not only because it would make a way cooler story, but really, more
importantly because it would mean I wouldn’t have to cover up my neck at jiu
jitsu this evening.
Alas, no such luck. And even if so,
Husband is not the neck-bruising kind. But, I’ve got two young boys. One of
them refuses to wear shoes outside. But keeps on his socks. The other thinks
that cooked spinach tastes better when eaten with one’s fingers Who knows what
crazy shit they drag into my house. And with my medical luck these days, well,
I am sure to catch it. Sigh. There will be Band-Aids and bandages, and lots of
explaining tonight at jiu jitsu.
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