The day, it sucketh

Here is a terrible self-portrait of me in my pink coat, taken in my home studio (garage). I probably should have buttoned up, which makes me looks much less wide. It is a lovely coat, don't you agree? And I know you can't see much of my scarf, but it was VERY expensive. Another blogger (I can't remember who) posted about a fabulous selection of scarves at Wal-Mart for the princely sum of five dollars, so I ran over there last night while Annamarie was rehearsing for the church musical. I got the pink one and a pretty bright green one, and you should dash over there and get some for yourself. Who doesn't like cute fashion accessories for cheap dollars? No one, that's who.



So Dr. Chupacabra tells me that I do in fact have thyroid cancer, but the good news is that "if you have to have cancer, this is the type you want," because apparently no one dies from this. They will remove my thyroid and maybe give me some radioactive iodine and put me on thyroid hormone for the rest of my life. I am not particularly stressed out about any of this, but I think my mom is. I called her just as she was getting ready to go get her hair done and I will feel horribly guilty if the distraction of worrying about me caused her to wreck her car or make rash hairstyle decisions. And Ron has decided that "cancer likes me" because of my previous bouts with skin cancer. At least it's the fairly benign kinds that like me.

When I got home from the doctor I had two messages from Thomas' school informing me that he is in Big Trouble about two separate and unrelated events. He has not ever been in trouble for anything at school before, unless you count talking too much, so I'm hoping that these are isolated events and that he will not get expelled and cause us to forfeit the huge amount of tuition we paid.

So how's your day going?