Hermetically Speaking.

Today I dropped the kids off at the front door of the school, watched the Older Boy take the Younger Boy to class, and headed to the Gym.

Once at the Gym I had my hat down low, didn't look at anyone, did my workout and run (5 miles!) and headed home.

Why the change from my ever-lovin', joyfull, extrovert self?

I have a cold sore.

This is what I imagine it looks like to others.

I rarely get them anymore, but when I get rundown physically, they tend to pop up. Yes, I know it's herpes, and no, I didn't get it from some Taiwanese hooker or from resting my face on a toilet seat at a high school kegger. (Although either of those would make a great story, and preferable to the boring truth: I've had them off and on for as long as I can remember.)

This is what it feels like to me.

It's not huge, just a small bump on my lip, but it feels like it's incredibly noticeable and takes up half my face - I laid low at the Gym for fear of running into someone and having a re-enactment of the "Mole" scene from Austin Powers: Goldmember. There's just something really awkward about someone going "What's that on your face?"

So my plan for the day is to chill out indoors, relax, and treat this malignant growth like I'm treating my pesudo-cold: I'm going to drug the fuck out of it.

My door will only be opened to let my imaginary cat in and out (I'm practicing for a real one) and to go get my kids from school - after that, I'm going all Howard Hughes until this thing clears up - which is hopefully tomorrow, because I have to go to work. (People will be wondering when they replaced the Dairy Guy with the Elephant Man.)


I will now bury my face in medicine, a book, and coffee - soon all will be well.

I would treat this cup like a waffle cone.

Later.