A Pod Person is Me

I did something wholly out of character. I just cleaned the kitchen. Not only did I use the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser but I used the grout brush, the Soft Scrub, a new sponge, and I moved stuff to clean behind it. I've obviously been possessed by anti-bacterial aliens. I smell like cleanser.

In twelve hours I've got a doctor's appointment. The pain began to subside midday. It lasts all weekend, ruins my fun, and then just when I've despaired and found a doctor and worried people, it goes away. Probably hiding out in my intestines until the stethoscope and prodding doctor hands go by. It'd be just like it.

The first doctor's office I called said, "We don't have any openings until April 2005. Does that work for you?" The second office, no one answered. The third office, Sansum medical clinic denied the doctor's existence and/or affiliation with Sansum medical clinic. The third office, no one answered. I was down to the last name on my list. Would I never have a doctor to call my own? The phone rang, a woman answered. "Dr. K--'s office..." With little hope I told her of my plight. She said, "Is tomorrow at nine-thirty okay?"

On other fronts, I am still enamored with the game Syberia. Now that I'm playing "The Longest Journey," I keep comparing the two. And I wonder, truly, where have these games been all my life? My biggest problem is that when I start to play one of these games, I don't want to stop -- beauty sleep be damned!

Crusty, droopy, bags under one's eyes is the new black.