The biggest news this week was that I had a cold sore. Left to wander the rain-soaked streets of Pittsburgh like a syphilitic 19th century whore, my oral Scarlet A told a story. It let people know that I had been places.
Of course worse than actually having a cold sore is having to go to the store and buy cold sore medication. I was a bit unnerved to discover that Rite-Aid keeps these medications locked up and that if you want to buy them you have to go up to the sales clerk and say, “I need to purchase some medication for my fever blister which is NOT herpes despite how many questionable sex acts I engaged in while in college.”
I was applying the shame salve when Chris asked if he could borrow my ChapStick. I told him it was not ChapStick and then hid it on an upper shelf after having a vision of my eight year old in his room smearing herpes meds all over his face.
Also of note this week was the election. A former talk radio and cable news junkie, I no longer partake in political catnipping as it left me with the urge to gather up all Republicans and hold them prisoner in a raunchy gay sex club/third trimester abortion clinic.
The truth is I only know there was an election because Facebook (from where I get all my news) told me about it. Or rather, the people in my newsfeed (who apparently invented voting) took pictures of themselves with stickers that said “I voted”. Sigh. I’m currently printing up stickers that say: “This is NOT herpes.”
I think it’s great that you voted and I love a sticker as much as the next 5 year old, but I noticed as the day went on that it went from statuses of “I just voted!” to “I voted. Have you?!” to “I’m morally superior to you because I voted.” to “People who don’t vote should be held prisoner in a raunchy gay sex club/third trimester abortion clinic.” Hey, whatever. I could use a vacation.
I just wish people could vote and shut up about it. Why does it have to be a “thing”? Why does it have to be cool? Why does it have to be celebrity endorsed? Why does it need a sticker?!?!
Halloween was also this week(ish). For the second straight year it rained. This did not deter a skeleton-clad Chris who was determined to fill up his 37-gallon plastic pumpkin with enough candy to feed all those Republicans I’m currently holding prisoner at my raunchy gay sex club/third trimester abortion clinic.
As someone who came to this parenthood thing a little late in the game, I have to say that walking around in the cold, wet dark for two hours while my kid becomes pre-diabetic is, well, kind of awesome. It’s one of those moments I never thought I’d get to have: trick-or-treating with my kid.
I do hate that the only time I seem to truly big picture my life is during these seminal moments. Trick-or-treating. Christmas. Birthdays. It makes me a little sad that I take for granted the every day. That each moment isn’t significant. But then I think of my instagram feed with its “I voted” pictures of mugging adults and I realize: not every thing in life can be a sticker moment.