Dirty

You know the scene in LOTR Fellowship of the Ring (Extended Edition) where Boromir cuts his hand on the shards of Narsil? All I can think of when they show that scene is dirty hands! Dirty hands! Infection infection, woo woo woo! I am so easily grossed out by microbes. Just the ones that are where they're not supposed to be. Otherwise I think they're supercool. 

So, lexapro is fun. It seriously knocks out my anxiety and depression, but gives me tummy and head aches, and messed up dreams with toes and seals. Before all this medicine stuff, I wasn't sure if I dreamed in color, until I saw blue toenails and red cars and blue swimming pools. 

I'm all kinds of messed up, as I only got about 4 hours of sleep last night. I talked Mike to sleep, describing Faberge eggs and molecule thick layers of paint on the Mona Lisa. And I had such a jonesing for a fuzzy poster that I bought one with kittens on it. They only had two choices, kittens or unicorns. What ever happened to the cool geometric ones or ones with celtic knots? It's been so long since I've broken out my markers that the old ones were all dried up. I'm so glad crayons don't dry out. (heaven help me, I just prounounced it cray-uns in my head. I used to go nuts whenever people pronounced it like that. They're CRAY-ONS, for crying out loud!)