Yesterday I was digging through a wine cellar (humble brag) when a splinter from one of the wooden boxes penetrated so deeply into my thumb that I think that chunk of oak is now permanently part of me. It got me thinking: would you rather never get splinters/paper cuts ever again or never have to pay taxes ever again? Right now, it’s a tough call.
Ok here’s another: Would you rather have plants that scream every time you trim them or fruits that beg for their lives every time you eat them?
I have no idea where this is going, either, for the record.
I’m staring at the hole in my thumb, my skin is starting to grow over my body’s new addition, as I make my way to Chicago for New Year’s Eve. I remember last year thinking 2018 is going to by THE YEAR. I wasn’t wrong. 2018 was um.. something. I moved twice. I bought a dog. I started dating again, and as you know if you’ve read my past posts, it has truly been a RIDE. Tell me why men, some of whom are well into their 30’s, still pursue women with no end game in mind? Is it a red flag if a man stops responding to your texts and tells you he’s uninterested? What do you mean I’m not everyone’s cup of tea? I did not sign up for this. I’ve recently decided to take a sabbatical from my feelings.
Would you rather have your feelings hurt by multiple human beings who you find attractive or twist a splinter that sits festering in your hand?
My thumb is bleeding.
The good news is this morning I woke up and my puppy sat nuzzled in my neck, softly snoring and licking my chin. Someone could have walked into my room, stabbed me to death, and I would have died happy. 2019 is THE YEAR. The year to be loved by me and my dog. The year to consider all of the options. The year to be more fucking careful in wine cellars.