I've been contemplating this post for a couple of days. Ultimately, I decided my hesitation was related to some sort of internal filter that prevents me from typing the word 'mole', so let's go ahead and get that out of the way first off.
Mole mole mole mole MOLE.
Ugh. What a horrific word.
So anyway, moles. I have a few, ok? I come by them naturally from every identifiable side of my family, so what was I supposed to do about it? It's genetics. I can't fight that crap. Mostly I don't notice them anymore since I've had them since basically forever.
And now I'm sitting here trying to figure out how to lead into this story, and let's just jump right in because there's no easy way to say this:
Bug noticed a small mole on my neck while we were at the eye doctor with MJ last week, and she used her tiny fingernail to rip it off.
RIP. IT. OFF.
Just to recap, this is the text I sent Patrick that day:
On top of your list of texts you did not anticipate today: Bug just scratched my neck mole off at the eye doctor and now I'm bleeding.