Once again, I’m going to ask you not to adjust your monitors. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know if anyone is even following my little corner of the world any more. I have likes on the Facebook page, but what even does that mean anymore?
I got distracted updating my About Me page & now I don’t even know what I came here to write in the first place. It was probably something stupid & controversial like how I think Marvel blows D.C. out of the water. Or maybe it was about how I’m several years late to the party & finally caught up on Game of Thrones just in time for Season 7 to start? It’s apparently my M.O. to have a show be six seasons old before I get into it. I think I tweeted about how quickly I got through the Walking Dead. There were definitely only two or three episodes of season 7 for me to watch when I was entirely caught up.
Which – no spoilers – but WHAT ON EARTH?! I don’t have any idea how people who watched the show in real time waited months to get new episodes. I’d have been dying.
It was possibly about how there are three letters in the alphabet that, when strung together, make my anxiety a level 10,000? Yeah, those letters are M-R-I. Fear not, this time it’s my ankle, not my head. I am a little disappointed about how my doctor lied to me & told me I’d only be about waist deep in the machine because that’s definitely not what the lady who scheduled me said. The conversation went: “Are you claustrophobic?” Yes, extremely. “How tall are you?” 5’2″. “Hold on. [comes back on the line] Yeah, you’re going to be in about halfway up your face. Is that okay?”
NO THAT IS NOT OKAY. But I’m going to tough it out because I am a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need to be drugged to get through an MRI. Okay, that’s a lie because I totally need to be drugged to get through an MRI when I’m going into the machine head first. We shall see how this one goes.