So, I spend a few minutes this morning on my hands and knees, crawling around the floor looking for a bit of myself that had just fallen off. Not a typical way to start they day, but, contrary to what you might think, it wasn’t a bad one either.
It was only a little bit, after all.
I’ve had a mole on my neck that’s been inflamed and painful for over a month now, and which was due to be removed in the very near future. It doesn’t need to be removed any more, as it decided to make a bid for freedom all on its own this morning after my hair got tangled around it.
The only problem was that it made a bid for freedom whilst I was only half awake after my first good night’s sleep for a couple of weeks, and I didn’t see where it landed…so I had to get down and look for it before I trod on it and squeezed the tiny amount of blood it contained out onto the carpet.
But after all that, for the first time in several weeks, I don’t get a stab of pain every time I turn my head or move my shirt collar. I think the mole had realised that the imminent minor surgery to get it removed was going to end it anyway, and it decided to go on its own terms rather than waiting for the inevitable.
I call that a win.