Howdy, folks. I got over whatever was bothering me earlier this week, but now it’s attack of the allergies.
I sneezed about 20 times in a row last night, my eyes are burning, my nose is itchy and one of my tonsils is swollen. I think it’s a combination of changing seasons (boooo) and dust. I rearranged my room Monday and moved my “office” into another room. So, I kicked up a lot of dust. Then I was in my new office all day yesterday and probably kicked up some more dust. Dust is just the worst.
Anyway, folks really seemed to like my gross and messed up story about daddy long legs yesterday, so I thought I’d share a couple other stories from my childhood. For the first story, remember I was a weird kid (who grew into a weird adult).
I had to go to the hospital several times when I was around 4 years old for the same thing: Getting rocks out of my nose. Yep. My mom was not happy about that. I can’t imagine why. Well, no one knew why I put rocks up my nose. So, I’ll tell you: I would put a rock up one nostril, then hold down the other, and blow the rock out of my nose. I thought it was hilarious. Who wouldn’t? It is hilarious. So, I did it a lot. And it took a long time before I learned that maybe I shouldn’t do that.
Now, the next one is kind of gross — not that sticking rocks up one’s nose isn’t. When I was 5 years old and probably before that, I used to run around with my tongue hanging out a little. My tongue would be in between my teeth. My mom would yell “Put your tongue in your mouth!” Yes, that is weird. Imagine overhearing that, hahaha. Anyway, I didn’t listen, and I learned the hard way why I should not have been doing that.
I was in kindergarten, and it was recess. And I ran up some steps on one of the playground sets. And I fell. And I bit my tongue. All the way through. Do you know what bleeds a lot? Biting your tongue all the way through. So, there I was, blood just everywhere, horrified classmates standing around. I remember the look on my teacher’s face. I actually don’t remember being in any pain. I was probably in shock — and enjoying the attention, to be honest. I remember being upset because I was bleeding on my purple coat. I remember being at the hospital. The doctor said there wasn’t much that could be done — it’s not like they could put stitches in it. I don’t remember anything after that. But I didn’t run around with my tongue out anymore.
So, I guess sometimes it takes trips to the hospital to make me stop doing dumb things. I think, maybe, as an adult it takes less than that now? Maybe? I hope so.
Until next time!
Frazzled Daisy 