I was awakened this morning by a nosebleed. Despite Mr. Pear's sleepy assurance that "everyone gets them," I don't think I actually have. I seem to have some recollection of laying down on our old blue couch with one, but the more I delve back into my extremely fuzzy memory, I think it wasn't me, but Mini-Pear.
I was ever so slightly aware of some post-nasal drip situation which suddenly exploded into the cavity of my mouth. I staggered to the bathroom to spit out this horrific chunk of blood. It wasn't so much as a nosebleed, but a need to continually spit blood that was clearly generated from somewhere above as opposed to below my mouth. So not tasty. And so boring (and cold) standing over the bathroom sink waiting for it to all finish!
Anyway, now I'm all alone at home (don't read anything pathetic into that statement - I just had the last truffle and am very much looking forward to my day devoid of a plan). Mr. Pear has gone off to work, Mini-Pear and my mother have absconded to Disneyland. They just called to say they've arrived and that the overcast weather apparently hasn't put a damper on everyone else's plans to visit the park.
Maybe I lost some sense along with all that blood this morning, for I am just now feeling slightly horrified that I wrote my mother's cell phone number on my child's arm with a sharpie marker just in case they get separated. Surely I could have pinned a little note to the bottom of her shirt or something instead. Apparently I am one of those wacky paranoid mothers.
Despite my plans to do absolutely nothing today, I did take the dog for a walk to drop off some mail. There is nowhere to leave it for the carrier at our house, as they shove all incoming mail through a slot in the garage door. Occasionally, I'll leave an outgoing envelope or two affixed to the flap with a bulldog clip, but now that the ne'er-do-wells from across the road have started parking their car right in front of our house, I am loathe to leave the bright red Netflix envelopes hanging around waiting to be stolen. I thought I'd listen to a podcast and do a longish loop. Podcasts and walking are fine, but I really need to stop listening to This American Life. Something is usually guaranteed to make me laugh and so I either end up chortling along to myself like some sort of easily amused buffoon, or I attempt to quell my laughter which usually results in my face contorting in such a manner that I've been stopped and asked if I'm okay.
I never know how to answer that one.
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