Standing in the bathroom, last night, waiting for the clogged sink to drain I let out a string of expletives that would make any sailor cower. And then I put lotion on my elbows. The benefit of having a clogged sink is really, really soft elbows.
As I was applying lotion I noticed something strange–my elbows were purple. Not bruised purple, but dead heroin addict hooker purple. Upon closer inspection I noticed that same shade of death covered my entire upper body.
What… the… fuck?
DAMMIT! I should have filled out the living will paperwork my mother sent me. I’m facing death and I don’t have a living will, or even a regular will. Not to mention I don’t have any money to leave anyone. Now is NOT the time to die! I’ve got to make a bunch of money to leave my niece and nephew. I’ve already planned out the stipulations on their non-existent trust fund. It’s simple really… if they vote anything but Democrat the money skips their greedy little pockets and is donated to the Democratic Party.
I was this close to calling and demanding my brother let me talk to the kids—I was not about to die without saying goodbye—when I stepped on the sweater I had just taken off. The new, BLACK sweater I had just taken off.
So that’s why you’re supposed to wash dark clothing before wearing it. Humph. Probably good to know.