As if having ghastly looking fingernails weren't enough, one of them is now infected. My first clue was the odor of something decaying that seemed to have attached itself to me somewhere on my body. It took a couple of days to figure out the offensive odor was coming from my middle finger. How appropriate. I almost expect a parade of carrion following me, waiting for me to stand still for a while.
The mouth sores are back, along with a generally sensitive mouth. I live in Texas. You're required to have Mexican food weekly at the very least. I thought bean and cheese tostado compuestos would be a viable choice. It was--right up until the second tostado.
I'm emotionally very edgy. The mere fact that Hubby is breathing annoys me. I know he has to breathe. I just wish he wouldn't do it in my space. Meanwhile, Hubby is in a slightly hypomanic period, which is making him a tad testy. I'm sure he wishes I'd stop breathing, too. We're just a laugh a minute at my house these days.
