I call this one: Wind Chill. We went for a walk yesterday afternoon at Vancouver Lake.
On Friday I was searching for an easy slow cooker recipe because I was going to be gone in the afternoon. Yikes there are bunches of crap recipes online. I ended up going for a slab of beef and a bunch of vegetables.
Last night we had leftovers and when we went to bed I asked Bob if there was any meat left.
Him: Yes, a piece about as big as a baseball.
Me: Wow, that’s a lot left over still.
Him: My fist, it’s about as big as my fist.
I’m trying to visualize this since it wasn’t that big a piece of meat to begin with. How could we have such a big piece left?
Him: A baby’s fist. It’s about as big as a baby’s fist.
Me: A baseball, your fist, a baby’s fist? None of those things are remotely the same size.
Then we couldn’t stop laughing and I told him he was bad at descriptions.
Now that I’m so old, every time I have a funny ache or a weird rash that doesn’t go away after two days, I get paranoid that this is the beginning of something awful. And that six months from now when I finally go to the doctor carrying my head under my arm, he’ll tell me if I had just come in when I got the funny ache, we couldn’t have avoided all this.
Yesterday in the shower I found this ginormous bruise on my leg. I have no idea where it came from. And last week when I was standing in front of the mirror trying to make my bangs fan across my forehead instead of curling up like a mustache, I spotted a nice purple bruise by my elbow. I don’t know where that came from either.
But I am really clumsy so just because I can’t remember bashing into something doesn’t mean I have bruising skin disease. Maybe I’ll just try to pay better attention.