i need to clean my apartment..

Terribly. I keep making piles all over the place but not putting anything away. Dishes? Pile. Clothes? Pile. Jewels? Pile. Random crap I don't know where I got it? Pile. But what am I doing? Enjoying canned green beans and blogging.

Since I'm pretty positive my husband isn't reading this I'm going to share, actually, over-share the next bit of information. The second week of June I got a blemish on my chest. Let's first talk about how I'm 21 and 3 years and STILL getting a blemish. GOD!! Seriously- GOD CAN YOU HEAR ME?? STOP IT!!!! But, because I'm trying to be beauty savy- I didn't pick at it and just let it go. What does it do? It turns into a black and blue disaster! I mean, it's low enough that it doesn't show in regular work gear- but it is STILL ANNOYING. This is a 6 week issue and counting. What happens two weeks ago? I GET ONE ON MY FOREHEAD. I mean... MY BEAUTIFUL FOREHEAD!!!! I must have angered the gods or something. I don't know. It is obviously cover-able by makeup (thank you BareMinerals) but it is STILL THERE. So I decide that this is very odd that I'm getting these two... growths... that I've never had before, so I made an appointment to go to the doctor.

The doctor puts me in her system as "skin lesion" which is offensive for obvious reasons. And then she asks me all those standard doctor questions AND THEN we get to the issue at hand. She keeps looking at me and poking the growths and I ask her "are we sure they are blemishes or are they tumors?". She said that's a little extreme and I should just give it another week or two. I asked her if she understood that I have already waited a week or two three times and she did but she also thought that I should still give it two more weeks. So, after spending 30 minutes at the doctor what do I know now that I didn't know before? Nothing. Except that I'm going to need to get bangs and I can't wear a ponytail. I love high ponies too. Gosh.

I called my grandma after work today to tell her about my medical emergency. I explained the entire devastating situation and my fear that if it never goes away I will never get a husband. She agreed that it is possible I will never get a husband and that she was upset about me "losing" my "beautiful face". Thanks for the support, grandma.

Then we changed the conversation to the missing diamonds. Remember how I said they were lost twice and found twice? Correction: lost twice, found once. She's very upset over the lost diamonds (obviously) and can't wait for me to come home and help her look for them (I can't wait). I asked her if she's been praying to Saint Francis? And she said - no, it's St Anthony. Gosh - I had to retell her about the first time she found the diamonds: She found a St Francis charm in her couch cushion when she was looking for the diamonds so she started wearing it and praying to St Francis and promised him $100 if he found the rings for her. Well, he found them. She wrote the letter to his church in Italy because she is positive he performed a miracle for her and she wanted to follow up on her $100 promise. I retell her the story and she starts remembering it and she says "Oh my gosh, Megan, you won't believe it....". While searching for the diamonds this time around she apparently re-found the SAME St Francis medal. Another miracle. She quickly hung up the phone with me to go put the medal on a chain, wear it, pray to him and search again for her diamonds.

Before she hung up, I suggested that once the diamonds were found she gives them to me for safe keeping. I mean- it's only logical at this point. Especially if she finds them by praying to St Francis which she only knew to do because I was the number one grandchild that reminded her.

It's a rough life being the favorite. A rough life is also having to clean your apartment...