I Choose You, Jafar

I noticed that WordPress has a sexy new look. I’m particularly tantalized by the, “visual,” option on mobile. Because I can’t make it work. So my imagination is overextended, thinking of all the wondrous possibilities, the bells and whistles I’m missing out on. That’s what I get for living out in the sticks, where Wi-Fi isn’t available, and the other options aren’t worth the price.

I’m full of hope today. Full of nerves, yes, as usual, but I want to frame things in a positive way. I hope I get called for an interview. There’s one place I applied where I think I would excel. I want that job. I’m cleaning out all my junk in preparation for when I get the call. If I don’t get the job, I’ll be packed and ready for the next one. If I don’t clean, I won’t be ready for relocating anywhere, for any job. I’m sending out a signal to the universe that I’m preparing myself for the next step in my life.

I have a mammogram coming up. I hope with all my soul that I get good news. My mother got breast cancer at 52. Her sister got it at 63. My dad’s sister got it at 50. My first cousin on my dad’s side, at 44. I would like to have my breasts removed. And no, I don’t take it lightly. It seems to run in both sides of my family and I don’t want to leave my child motherless.

For trying to be hopeful, that sure was grim. Here, have this fascinating exchange as compensation:

Sister: …and be really likes her. He made her a hamburger.

Me: Oh yeah? Wow, that’s wild.

Me, one minute later: Okay, so like an ACTUAL hamburger? Or is that some kind of sex thing?

Only in my demented brain.

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