Yesterday afternoon I had all sorts of elaborate post ideas percolating and was just about to sit down and start writing, except then a massive crew of men and machinery arrived to destroy my driveway and replace it with a series of ten-foot-deep holes (but not before charging me $3,500.00 for the pleasure!). And my plans changed. (If you have no idea what I’m talking about re: the $3,500.00 disaster, oh please go to my Snapchat.)
And this morning I have a follow-up appointment at my dermatologist to determine whether or not the large and creepy rash on both of my feet means that they’re about to fall off, or whether I might just be in the need of some extra-strength cocoa butter.
If how the last appointment went is any indication, I’m in for an exciting morning.
Doctor (poking foot): “Hmmmm, it could be ringworm.”
Me: “Is there a…worm? Like…in my foot?”
Doctor: “Oh no, there’s no actual worm involved in ringworm.”
Doctor (looking more closely): “Oh, wait. Nope, not ringworm.”
For future reference, doctors of the world, let’s please a) be sure that something is ringworm and b) clarify the whole “ringworm does not involve actual worms” thing prior to casually suggesting that someone might have ringworm. ‘Kay?
Anyway, what all this means is that I am writing this post in the five-minute interlude between kindergarten dropoff and (allegedly) non-ringworm-inclusive foot-rash appointments. So here are photographs of my door project, which commenced two years ago when I found a shot of a bright pink door on Pinterest and then decided that I, too would have a pink door one day.
I love it. And have loved it ever since the summer (hence the shorts and Bud Light cans), which is when I actually did this project. And then forgot to actually post about it until…well, until today.
So: pink door. Those among you who enjoy talking about odd skin maladies, feel free to join me on Snapchat; I’m sure it’ll be a wild ride. (Less wild than yesterday, please and thanks.)