Bugged

I am so grateful that it’s Friday. I’m wearing a comfortable dress to work, and it’s almost time for me to head home. The weather is unseasonably warm, and dinner is a snap tonight. That said, there are a handful of unpleasant items rolling around my brain today.

• The last game for JG’s volleyball team is next Thursday, and I have yet to finish the last senior scarf. Am I simply waiting for the panic of the last minute to set in? I only have a bit left to go, plus tassels, but it is hanging over my head.
• Last weekend, I took advantage of the clear, cool air and sat outside on the lawn. Ted relished his invisible-fence independence, I read, and it was lovely, but, oh, it was buggy. First, I brought out a citronella candle, and then I sprayed myself with light bug spray. And then I brought out my sleeping bag. Nonetheless, I still scored a constellation of tiny bug bites along my ankle, exactly where my yoga pants ended.
• If my outdoor bug bites weren’t enough, I’ve recently discovered two scary red welts on my wrist and four less-worrisome ones on my shoulder. What is going on? I showed JG at dinner one night, and he thinks a spider bit me. Um, what? Luckily, I am not afraid of spiders, having been indoctrinated as child that “spiders are our friends,” but I can’t help but feel psychosomatically itchy. JG doesn’t have any alarming bites, so he’s passing it off as an isolated incident. Harrumph.
• A full report will come at the end of the semester, but for now, just know that the graduate class I tried out this fall is going horribly. I just have to slog it out for the next eight weeks and produce a 20-page paper before it’s over. At least I know for sure that I shouldn’t pursue this program, and my company is reimbursing the cost of tuition and books. I only need to get a C for them to cut the check, thank goodness.
• I’ve had to put a pause on running because my knee continues to hurt, and now even on the staircases I climb every day at work. It feels like an old gymnastics pain, so my best guess is tendonitis, but I’m playing it safe and staying off of the roads. As a result, I feel like a lump of inactivity because walking seems so darn slow. My aerobic endurance is slipping through my fingers.

I’m a cheery one, huh? I’ll just keep repeating the good things to myself until I go home. It’s Friday. I’m wearing a comfortable dress. The weather is unseasonably warm. Dinner is a snap. It’s Friday.