"But I might Rust!"

I suspect that my brains have dripped out through the hole I am sporting on the top of my head. Why? Because I said this today:

"Well, that depends entirely on whether fish are smart enough to stop smoking."

And, no, it doesn't make any more sense IN context.

I finally worked up the nerve (and the skill - mirrors are tricky!) to look at my wound last night, and I was horrified! I look like the Bride of Frankenstein. Staples don't hold the wound shut nice and tight like stiches do. I didn't know that. It has been fun using the metal in my skull as a good excuse to avoid things I don't want to do. No matter how many times I tell my darling hubby that it really doesn't hurt - he is still giving me special treatment. Not that I am complaining! And now that it really doesn't hurt, I am going to have to resist wandering to each and every guest at Easter brunch, asking "You wanna see something gross?" Because the temptation is there.