Growing Up and Getting Married

Ben and I celebrated our THIRD anniversary on Monday. It's not a whole lot of years in the grand scheme of things. But it makes me feel like we're established. When I think about what being married over the past three years has taught me, I would say one of the biggest lessons has been how much we're all really still kids. But I get to act like it again, now that I'm married.

I like to cuddle a lot. And now, I get to be cuddled almost every night. I used to be cuddled a lot when I was little too.

Marriage has caused Ben and I to engage in more tickle fights, wet willy attempts and thumb wrestles than I have waged in all of my previous adult years.

I have to share again. This includes taking turns to kill the spider, wash clothes, eat the last few bites of ice cream or drive to wherever it is we have to go.

There is other sharing too. Decision making over expenditures is no longer an independent choice and I have to check with someone else about my schedule now before I make commitments or tell someone they can come over to play.

What I'm really saying is, most of my adult life was a farce. So, for all the singles out there, you don't really need to try to be such a grown up. Because when you get married, you're just going to be a kid again anyway.

Books

Ben and I have been cleaning house little by little, organizing our paperwork, throwing out things we don't need, and figuring out what we actually have. I took this opportunity to reassess my relationship with my book collection. I don't re-read books very often. And they take up all this space. And things seem to be going digital. Should I? They're so heavy. Do I really want to take them with me when we go?

The Verdict: I got rid of probably 70% of my book collection. I kept the books that I had on display, ones of specific sentimental value, reference books that may be hard to come by at a library, and my school books. That's it. I sent the rest to good will. It's done. I can't go back.

I have now put my boots and other shoes on my book shelves, as my shoes didn't seem to have enough room on the shoe rack. I must say -- my book shelves look so much better now.

First Wart

What a milestone to be having, right? I'm sure my mother would be very proud. Of course, I blame this on Ben, as the hepatitis virus that causes it clearly must have come from him. Otherwise, I'm sure I wouldn't be having my first wart at the fabulously aged prime of 31.

Location of wart: my right pointer finger. Kinda not an ideal location.
Size: small
Discovery: maybe in May or June?

So, I let it sit there for a while. It wasn't incredibly noticeable. it wasn't painful. But it was there, and warts are supposed to be gross. So I thought maybe I should get rid of it. I got some wart remover stuff at the store -- it's an ointment you squeeze onto the wart. Then you let it dry and stay there all day and it's supposed to kill "it". It says to use the ointment for up to 12 weeks.

I DID initially think 12 weeks was too long. Little did I know how right I was. I got through one week. And then, I looked at my poor finger and thought, " if I continue, I may not have much of a finger left. I think I will stop."

And now, instead of a little, hardly noticeable bump on my finger that, YES, was a wart (ew), I now have a large flesh wound. Said would can be seen here:



I know. Pretty tragic, right? The packaging on the medication said not to use on reddenned skin. I'm pretty sure scarred and lesioned should qualify as well.