I tried to comfort myself yesterday by suggesting that the distinct scent of hotdogs was perhaps the residual scent of rowan, who may or may not have burped turkey chili in my general vicinity. It's plausible, right?
I am feeling like every centimeter of my skin has had the first layer of skin peeled off. Like, that deeper pink colored skin after you've accidentally peeled off live skin, is everywhere. Does that make sense? I'm so inarticulate in this moment. I hate that I chose the word centimeter. I chose centimeter because inch is cliche and millimeter smells funny, and reminds me of this strangely green tape measure I currently have tucked away in a drawer in a black credenza in my studio that should be paradise, but currently is war.
I think I misspelled credenza. I think I misspelled alot. I think I misspelled misspelled. Yikes.
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