Let your mind alone

Ever since my doctor did ouchy things to the armpit bump last week (did the biopsy thing), I've reacted exactly as I suspected I would. Which is to worry incessantly. Do biopsies really have to take so freakin' long?

This worry thing is/was stupid as the chances of anything serious going on are extremely small, especially with my lack of additional symptoms combined with a history of illnesses that can affect one's lymph nodes decades down the road. Elizabeth, my doctor friend, is convinced that the swollen lymph nodes are a throwback to the dengue fever I contracted during my year in the Philippines, but I think this is because of her fascination with tropical diseases. (Note: Never get Elizabeth started about parasitic diseases; it gets really gross really quickly.)

At least I was able to stick to the rest of the week's plans, which was to take off work for a few days and visit my mother while my younger brother decamped to Austin. I am back in the office after three days of taking her cat to the vet, buying her a new vacuum cleaner, fixing loose roof shingles while she had a near-heart attack, and cleaning/fixing things.  I always wonder why my brothers cannot do simple fixes like replacing faucet washers and air conditioning filters, waiting for me to drive 120 miles so I can do it.

Now all I have to do is figure out why I had an odd dream last night. The subject matter was pretty damned funny in retrospect: I dreamed that Colonel Gaddafi (Quaddafi?) had moved into the vacant house next door to mine.

He wasn't a very good neighbor, as I kept catching him aiming rifles out of the house's bedroom windows. But when I eventually knocked on his front door to confront him he had the audacity to hit on me.