poor me

I missed the whole  Dallas premiere.

Me in my designer gown 

and stuck on a live call-in class.

It is all comfy cozy waiting on me 

in my DVR.

Tonight I hope to have the date.

If you got to view and you see me,

don't tell me anything...

even if I pursue it.

If you do, I will have to cut you.

Today I have a doctor appt.

I have a cuticle infection.

It is not lovely.

I had a hang nail,

then I gardened naked.

Well, my hands were naked.

I mean be real people.

Then, I scrubbed them with a nail brush.

 Saturday it looked red.

Sunday the unanimous diagnosis was ...yucky.

Everyone said go to the doctor.

Monday ...gross.

Tuesday I couldn't get in to the doctor. 

Wednesday I couldn't go fit an appt. in.

So I may show up today and he will call me a wuss.

I can't care. 

All the single ladies,

I wanna put a ring on it. 

My  Dallas-inspired viewing gown begs for a bauble.

However, I cannot adorn this sick digit.

For those of you who have been saying

"Gee you have had a lot of sickness this Spring."

Yes, apparently my immune system is in my fat.

AND I have admitted to being a whino.

Tear my arm off

( and I tried washing windows, remember?)

and I don't complain much

Give me a paper cut and I will gripe.

It's how I roll.