Last night as I fell asleep I thought If I’ve given up every other freaking thing I love, maybe I can start drinking coffee again!
This morning, the thought makes me queasy. Oh, the difficulties of being a sensitive flower! Especially when you are sturdy of stalk and stamen.
Somewhere earlier in the week my kid looked at the back of my leg and gasped What happened to you?!
I twisted the limb around to observe a five inch gash that had evidently been bleeding for quite some time, though I hadn’t felt a thing. Oh, I was probably attacked by my bike pedal….
The fantastically lurid injury did not in fact hurt until the inevitable infection set in (the whole point of the juicing folly is the suspicion that my old pal systemic lupus is starting to play coy tricks again).
I inquired of assembled charming companions Will you still love me when they amputate my leg?
They all chorused NO!