Ice Nice Tea

I HAVE A GIGANTIC NEED STATEMENT QUIZ TOMORROW AND I HOPE I CAN REMEMBER EVERYTHING!!!!!!!

I am scared.

At least this week is almost over. Oh joy.

HOT!

It is so hot! I went to lay down a while, and the next thing I knew an hour had gone by. I was knocked out. When I woke up, it was even hotter than before. What is happening?! I can't take it. My head hurts. My eyes are blurred. My legs keep collapsing under me. I can't open the windows because hot wind keeps blowing in.

Wind = Yes
Hot= No
Hot Wind = Oooh No

Thank goodness for fans. They just spin and spin and spin and spin and magically cool me down. BUT! Beware. Once I step away from the magic fan's line of influence I melt. How nice would it be if I had some ice cream right now? Very nice! I think sometime soon Ben and Jerry's is going to have one of those free ice cream days. It is only in certain places, so look it up and if one of them is nearby take me with you! Stream of consciousness narration. Is this what I am doing? Darn English. Making me realize that there is a term for how I am writing. First person. Since I am using "I" and "you". Huzzah!

Wait.

Stop right there.

Don't turn around.

This may come as a shock to you.

But.

It is important.

And it is important to you and me.

So listen up.

Don't listen down.

Or look away.

Look straight ahead.

Okay.

So here it is.

I have a quiz in English!

So here is an interesting little thing. Starting Thursday I'm going to be lugging around a bag of trash. Not your trash or his trash or her trash or that trash, but my trash. Yep. Yup. Yip. Yuppers. Yipperoo. One week. Thursday to Thursday. I can't throw anything away. Except into my little trash baggie. All the trash I make goes in the bag. Not into the trash can, that goes to the bigger trash can, that goes to the truck, the goes to the landfill. Now now. Don't get grossed out too quickly. This doesn't mean I have to lug around my food scraps, and used toilet paper. I keep those in a log. Not a wooden log but a written log. On a peice of paper. Food scraps do not have to be thrown away. They can be put in a compost pile. Compost pile. Compost pile. Great right? If you do not know what a compost pile is..

LOOK IT UP

Scabs

I HURT MYSELF!

I was trying to swat a fly away.

Hit my glasses, which I was wearing.

My glasses scratched me, and now I have a gash between my left eye and nose.

I also have a random cut on my right middle finger.

Looks like a paper cut.

A thick paper paper cut.

Now the gash became a scab and I was poking at the scab.

Now the scab is coming off.

I sat with my legs crossed in front of the computer in my chair and now my legs feel like jelly.

The scab is still not coming off.

It is half off and half stuck on.

But if I poke more at it it will become a scar.

A scar on my face

I don't want that!

My legs are going numb now.

It stings like needles poking endlessly.

You know what I mean.

I can't take it.

I'm going to rip the darn thing off my face.

No no.

I can't.

What if it makes it worse.

Stupid scabs.

They are so rough and easy to pick at.

No one can resist a scab that isn't ready to fall of yet.

At least I can't.

Grossing anyone out?

Making anyone want to pick at their scab?

I am.

Not.

My foot is still numb.

Only slightly though.

Why am I even blogging about this?

Nothing more to do.

Except do my homework.

Calculus.

English.

Study for stuff.

I could be.

But I would rather sit in front of my computer.

Picking at a scab.

I'm grossing myself out.

Ouch ouch ow ow ow.

Picking at it isn't going to work.

I'm going to have to let it dangle on my face until it is ready to fall off.

Jump off.

Skip off.

Leap off.

Run away.

Detach itself from my face.

Imagine that.

A scab growing legs and jumping off my face.

Interesting.

I hope that never happens to me.

To someone else maybe.

It would be fun to see.

But not me.

Foot no longer numb.

I'll sit with my legs folded to the left then.

How long till they go numb again?

Running.

Faster and faster.

Finally breaking free.

Stupid stupid scabs.

....

IT'S OFF!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Yes Yes Yes!

Ew.

Kind of gross now that I look at it.

It has no legs.

Thankfully.

Or not thankfully.

I will never get to see a scab jump off someone's face.

Will I.

Now it's just there.

On my napkin.

Laying there.

The napkin has a scab.

Run scab run!

Now all I have to do is wait for my finger to heal.

Darn paper cuts.

How did I even get it?

I don't think the scab was ready to come off.

What have I done?!

I'll be scarred for life.

Not emotionally like others.

But physically.

Ohhhh...intense.

Not really.

"How did you get that?"

"I hit myself in the face."

"Oh. How horrible?"

"Well. I was trying to hit a fly."

It's still here, there, on my table.

On the napkin.

Not on my face.

I could take a picture of it.

Put it online.

Then everyone can take a look.

But I won't.

If anyone wants to see it.

Come dig in my garbage can.

HA!

Marvel at what was once on my face.

Well actually it is only a part of it.

It wasn't supposed to come off yet.

Half is still there.

Incomplete.

The poor thing has to go on now without its lower half.

Or upper half.

Poor me.

I'll have half a scar.

All because I was itching to pick at my scab.