I itch, a lot. I scratch like a dog with fleas. It's gotten so embarrassing that, for a fun vacation treat, I finally went to see a dermatologist. She determined I have a rash. That isn't as stupid as it sounds, she thinks the seven separate rashes all the same. One of her recommendations was taking off my wedding ring before I wash my hands, and not replacing it until my hands are completely dry.
This is harder than you might think. After twenty-six years of always wearing a ring, taking it off is easy to forget. So, I stepped into the shower, ring and all ~ just like normal. When I remembered, I thought about putting my ring on my pinky, after all, there's no rash on that finger. But, it's a pretty sloppy fit on the pinky. What if falls off and slides down the drain before I can grab it? Fishing a ring out of the drain, with all that hair an slime, ewww. Dilemma.
I open the shower curtain a bit & ponder where to put it. The window sill, two inches away, didn't occur to me because . . . umm . . . because I hadn't yet had any coffee? The toilet lid? Yeah. That's close and level. (stop laughing) I gently tossed my ring to the toilet, thinking how much better this is than risking it going down the bathroom drain. (didn't i already tell you to stop laughing) It landed perfectly on the very smooth lid, slid to the back, down ~ clanking cheerily as it bounces off the porcelain and under the seat. Even with the shower going, I heard my wedding ring go PLOP into the water.
Oh yeah. It's so much more fun to fish it out of the toilet than the shower drain. Admittedly, the toilet was freshly scrubbed (thank you, God) and the shower was. . .errrr. . . less than immaculate, but still. . . something about reaching into the toilet is so icky.
This wasn't the first time I've felt how cold the water in the bowl is (very, for those who don't know). When I was very little, no more than three, Mom was hanging some handwashables over the shower curtain and I was sitting. That hole is pretty gosh-darned big for a toddler. I lost my grip. I went splash. I remember my tail in the water, my hands & feet in the air, shoulders caught by the seat. It was very undignified, and a little scary. "Mom!" I screamed. "What?" she snapped, turning. I don't remember what she said, but I do remember the horrified expression on her face.
When someone is late, in my family, it's not unusual to ask, "Did you fall in?" I was in my thirties before I learned that no one outside of my family knows that expression. It is just an ongoing joke at my expense. Gee, thanks Mom & Dad.
Genealogy tip of the day: This cannot be said enough, check the math. I can't tell the number of times I've looked at someone else's family tree to see that Bob was born in 1920 and Bob's mother was born in 1868. Really? Possible, but not likely. Usually, it turns out that Mom was born in 1886. Sometimes the purported mother was actually a grandma. Anytime someone has a child after fifty, it's worth double-checking.
This is harder than you might think. After twenty-six years of always wearing a ring, taking it off is easy to forget. So, I stepped into the shower, ring and all ~ just like normal. When I remembered, I thought about putting my ring on my pinky, after all, there's no rash on that finger. But, it's a pretty sloppy fit on the pinky. What if falls off and slides down the drain before I can grab it? Fishing a ring out of the drain, with all that hair an slime, ewww. Dilemma.
I open the shower curtain a bit & ponder where to put it. The window sill, two inches away, didn't occur to me because . . . umm . . . because I hadn't yet had any coffee? The toilet lid? Yeah. That's close and level. (stop laughing) I gently tossed my ring to the toilet, thinking how much better this is than risking it going down the bathroom drain. (didn't i already tell you to stop laughing) It landed perfectly on the very smooth lid, slid to the back, down ~ clanking cheerily as it bounces off the porcelain and under the seat. Even with the shower going, I heard my wedding ring go PLOP into the water.
Oh yeah. It's so much more fun to fish it out of the toilet than the shower drain. Admittedly, the toilet was freshly scrubbed (thank you, God) and the shower was. . .errrr. . . less than immaculate, but still. . . something about reaching into the toilet is so icky.
This wasn't the first time I've felt how cold the water in the bowl is (very, for those who don't know). When I was very little, no more than three, Mom was hanging some handwashables over the shower curtain and I was sitting. That hole is pretty gosh-darned big for a toddler. I lost my grip. I went splash. I remember my tail in the water, my hands & feet in the air, shoulders caught by the seat. It was very undignified, and a little scary. "Mom!" I screamed. "What?" she snapped, turning. I don't remember what she said, but I do remember the horrified expression on her face.
When someone is late, in my family, it's not unusual to ask, "Did you fall in?" I was in my thirties before I learned that no one outside of my family knows that expression. It is just an ongoing joke at my expense. Gee, thanks Mom & Dad.
Genealogy tip of the day: This cannot be said enough, check the math. I can't tell the number of times I've looked at someone else's family tree to see that Bob was born in 1920 and Bob's mother was born in 1868. Really? Possible, but not likely. Usually, it turns out that Mom was born in 1886. Sometimes the purported mother was actually a grandma. Anytime someone has a child after fifty, it's worth double-checking.
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