I got a cold sore last week. It's kind of hard for me to write this because I hate them so bad and it totally consumed every waking moment of my thoughts for at least a week. You see, Josh Olson never gets cold sores. And I never get cold sores. Unless I kiss Josh Olson. Then I do. I haven't figured out how this works. Maybe he's a carrier. Maybe we each have half the virus. But I feel like I'm walking around with the grossest thing ever on my face and I hate it. It's finally finally gone, but this was the worst I've ever had, and all the Abreva and Neosporin in the world wouldn't make it go away. Bleech.
Care Packages: Kind of unrelated, except it pertains to Josh and I got one today, which I love. Care packages are the funnest thing about long distance relationships. I never got to do this for missionaries, which I'm fine by, because this way, I get cool ones back, too. For example, today I got a John Deere hat, some bubble bath, an article about his uncle's new harvester, his sticker from his army test to be a helicopter pilot, and some little floaty boats and ticket stubs. And a picture of me moving from Boise that I had never seen. And I love that kind of stuff. :o)
Some stuff he gives me I like. :o)
ADDENDUM: Josh reminded me yesterday that my first cold sore actually occurred when I bought some blueberries a few years ago. As I put one to my lips, it exploded into a cold sore. Immediately. It was the weirdest thing ever. So I guess Josh and blueberries just bring it out, and I got the icky virus from someone else.
2 comments:
If you would just stop kissing EVERYONE that you want to, then maybe you wouldn't have the problem of nasty cold sores staring back at you in your reflection.
What kind of life is worth living if you can't kiss everyone you want to? And I don't, anyways. I only kiss the single ones.
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