I have an infected tooth. The infection can be felt up to my eye. I need oral surgery, and I’m too chicken to have it done. Why am I telling you this? Pity? Support for my fear that my husband doesn’t seem to be showing me? Perhaps because it slowed me down on my projects a bit this weekend. Not so much that I couldn’t order this to make me feel better.
You know that sound that 14-year old girls make when they first see one another after Christmas break? I do. It’s horrifying. However, that’s the sound I made when I pushed the “confirm order” button tonight. And yes, it was horrifying.