I went through a Nancy Drew phase when I was about six, but since then, I've never been one for mysteries. Especially those involving my body. So you can imagine my rapture when the skin just below my throat erupted in an angry red rash last month. It disappeared after a week, and I went back to living crankily ever after.
Until it returned last Sunday, madder than a hornet, itching like chiggers (which it is NOT) and in the exact same place and pattern.
For the life of me, I can't figure out what's causing it. Nothing's changed; it's nowhere else on my body, and I didn't take up any weird culinary habits in either period. I'm just dotty. And I'm not liking it.
I have finally distributed the last of our holiday gifts, and I'm glad. Now to finish up my thank you notes. This is my annual January closure bender. I cleaned out my closet today. Turned out I had a Real Simple magazine from 2005 cluttering things up. Not exactly taking its advice, was I? Tomorrow I tackle Mount Laundry, and if I don't wilt before it's over, I'll either make French lentil soup or pasta bolognese. Hmmm.