I’m breaking my silence for a bit of nitpicking, which I’ve gotten pretty good at.
Quick! Give me two words that unnerve you more than:
Terrify you more than:
Paralyze you more than:
Hurricane Ike, Josie, Kyle or storms beginning with the letters LMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ
Nah! Bring on all those lightweights!
It’s HEAD LICE, the mantra of my week in the here and now. Should this catastrophe ever befall your household, smack dab in the middle of your self-imposed meditative solace, I will tell you what works (two treatments, four comb-outs, and ferocious use of scissors; spending eight back-breaking hours over two days peering through a magnifier at each of 100,000 hair strands; and doing five loads on hot at the laundromat because the WASHING MACHINE BROKE last week). Here’s what doesn’t work (anything less because believe me I tried).
And my neighbor survived the train crash with the blessings of two broken ribs, a broken leg and a completely intact sense of gratitude. May we all be so rich.