BMT Day 59: More Entries In The Big Book Of Reid Levin Medical Mysteries
Monday July 13th 2015, 9:44 pm
Filed under: Leukemia, Who Knows?

I did not sleep well last light, and ended up sleeping all morning. I feel awful and no one really seems to know why. Except the nodes. These lymph nodes are driving me nuts. They’re already around my head and neck. All I can say is that I’ve been reassured they’re not lymphoma. Other than that, no one has a clue why I’m getting them. If I had an infection in my head, it might make sense, but I don’t appear to have anything like that. I’m on widespread antibiotics just in case, to hopefully tone down the nodes. If that doesn’t work, I’m probably going to get samples taken of them again (with needles, even).

I’m getting frustrated and angry about no one knowing what this is or what to do about it, even if they’re doing their best. I also feel guilty and getting frustrated and angry when there are much more specific BMT problems I could be having–problems I know people who have. Problems where the donor’s host cells attack the host, or the way around. If this bothers me, I hope that BMT specific problems don’t happen to me.

I’m going to try get some sleep and see if it helps.

Good night,


(note: I’d originally mismarked this as “Day 60.”)

Oncology, Numerology, Boredom.
Monday May 11th 2015, 10:18 pm
Filed under: Family, Leukemia, Me, Myself, and Reid, Who Knows?

The oncology floor called at 7:45 this morning and said they had a room ready for me. I checked into the hospital 10:30ish. I got an x-ray, labs taken, and an hour long dose of chemo at 6:05 this evening. I’m not complaining–I’ve been on chemo 24/7 before that made me sick as a sick dog–I’m just finding that there is, indeed, going to be a large boredom factor here.

I noticed something interesting (to bored me) this morning that I somehow missed before.

Wednesday will be my last day of chemo, hopefully forever. The date will be May 13, 2015.
I finished my last dose of chemo from my last fight with leukemia on May 12, 2011.

I was first diagnosed on December 6, 2007.
This time I was diagnosed on January 6, 2015.

When I was diagnosed this year, on January 6, it was the day before the seventh anniversary of my first remission.

I’m clearly not a numerologist, but if I was, I think I could find some crazy patterns to be crazy about here.

Tomorrow and Wednesday, I will do nothing but receive chemo at 6:05 PM. Thank you to everyone that kept me awake today.

Rachel received two shots in her stomach today. They tried to stick her in the fattiest part of her abdomen. Rachel doesn’t have any fat on her body. So she was in pain just from the shots. 24 hours after the shots, she’ll start to feel like she has the flu. Rachel’s actual suffering for me. I’m just bored.

I’m very lucky.


Surprise Bone Marrow Aspirate OR “Surprise: Bone Marrow Aspirate!”
Saturday February 28th 2015, 9:26 pm
Filed under: Family, Leukemia, Who Knows?

A few days ago, I went into the BIC, the outpatient bone marrow infusion center where I’ve been receiving chemotherapy since I last left the hospital.  They do labs in the BIC, they perform procedures, they give chemotherapy, and they have a freezer full of orange sherbet.  When last there, I met with Ben, the oncology psychologist, who I like a lot, and I got labs drawn. 

The BIC isn’t a bad place.  I like it when it runs smoothly.  And when they’re not out of sherbet. 

That being said, we’ve had a couple of scheduling mishaps, where we’ve ended up sitting around for four hours instead of a typical hour-and-a-half appointment.  And while we like everyone that works there, there never seems to be anyone that’s in charge of planning what I’m supposed to be doing in the future.  We (Mom, really) always seems to need to all-too-frequently rattle some cages.

This was the case earlier this week.  I’d finished all my chemotherapy for this session (phew, off that steroid Dexamethasone that spiked my blood sugar like crazy) and I had a seemingly ambiguous re-admittance date of March 5 floating around.  What was I supposed to be doing in between now and then?   Ben, helpful as always, told us he’d track down my doctors (not usually visible to the naked eyes of patients) and find out what, if any, plan there was for me between now and March 5. 

Almost as soon as we arrived home, we (my mom) received a call that all my invisible doctors had met that very morning and decided I needed a new bone marrow aspirate.  But nobody told us; which was frustrating because no one seemed to know when I could actually go through the procedure. By the time my mom received the call, almost everyone had gone home and it was too late to schedule anything.  The person on the other end of the phone indicated I could get the bone marrow aspirate the next morning (surprise!) or not for some time (ambiguous!).

The sense of cessation of even a small amount power, be it for scheduling or defending what medications I need to be on, or even to have some confirmation that those invisible docs can hear us–creates a huge feeling of instability.  There’s really not much I can do other than follow what the nurses tell me I can do.  But there’s this little bit more stuff we should be able to do that we rely on to feel like we’re affecting the process.

The bone marrow aspirate is the one where they drill into my pelvis and remove bone marrow, the fluid around the bone marrow, and a long-ish piece of a “core” of bone.  I’ve had this done three times now with this bout of leukemia; the first time with no pain medication and simple assurances that, “it wouldn’t be so bad,” which was awful.  The second time, I was on a very minor amount of pain medication (not as awful, but still pretty awful).

Whenever I–or we— brought up the possibility of anesthesia or at least stronger pain meds like those used at other hospitals, we were met with looks of total consternation. Why would we want those things?  The procedure was utterly painless according  to what they’d said before–how could they be wrong?

Luckily, there’s a new program in place for some (“Those Levins won’t stop going on about this!”) where they administer some mild and useful anesthesia.  The whole process seemed to go easier and smoother–which may have also had to do with the nurse practitioner listening and caring to what I said. The whole process was about twenty minutes but I can recall about five. 

We were called back in on Friday with little expectation of who we’d meet with or why we were even going to BIC (typical BIC). We did know that the first slide from my bone marrow aspirate should be be back, and while not explaining all of the details–could potentially reveal If I was in remission or not.

One of the people we ended up meeting with was a nurse practitioner to whom we expressed our concern about my ambiguous March 5 readadmit date and what I was doing before then.   Luckily, she was one of the nurse practitioners who was able to both see and communicate with my invisible doctors.

As it turns out, since there’s no apparent calendar in the BIC, one of my doctors was leaving us a message at home rather than visiting with us directly. When the nurse practitioner discovered this, she got information on my first slide which she brought back to us (although the doctor stayed behind).  Unfortunately, the slide showed that I’m still leukemic. But only 1.30%.  That’s down from an initial 90% to then 30%. 

While I would have preferred to have no leukemia at all, which would have allowed me to go straight to the bone marrow transplant, I can live with these results.  I’m going back on the chemo protocol I just finished, which I tolerated decently–it was only four days of inpatient and the rest outpatient at home (delivered at the BIC)–and any time at home beats time at the hospital.  Even (and maybe especially) when I’m feeling lousy.

The bigger, better news is that with counts like that, one more round of chemo will almost certainly put me into remission. My sisters will be able to come into town, someone (likely not an invisible doctor) will take Rachie’s stem cells, I’ll get some radiation and some more chemo and I’ll get those precious stem cells.  I’ll be in isolation for three or four weeks, while we trick my body into giving me the leukemia-void immune system I’ve always wanted.  

I do wonder, since the stem cells are coming from Rachel, if I’ll gain any of her other traits.  Like being able to stretch crazily, or having strawberry allergies, or growing long, blonde hair.

And that March 5 date?  Well, now it’s going to be the more ambiguously BIC-like March 4.  That being said, it turns out it’s just for me to recover.  No chemo, no BIC, no hospital.  Just being home. I’m okay with this. 

NEXT: “Loved And Blessed By My Friends”

“Chapter 11: That Time I Got That Thing Stuck In My External Ear” (abr.), Sinusitis, and Hail On the Homefront
Tuesday September 30th 2014, 6:08 pm
Filed under: Denver, Family, Health (Not Cancer), Me, Myself, and Reid, Who Knows?

Heya, Blog Reader,

I have a sinus infection that I think is on the way out. I wasn’t given antibiotics or allowed to see my ENT. I guess I have mixed feelings about not getting antibiotics–I’ve had a lot since chemo and I know the hazards of taking too many. But they usually make me feel better. Instead, I got a nasal spray, and I guess that’s helped clear things up. So that’s fine. The ENT thing was stupid. Basically, I haven’t seen any of my ENTs–who I know by name and vice versa–recently enough to see them again without a referral, which I did not receive. University Hospital, you may have saved my life, your stupid bureaucracy is intolerable.

We had our house redone this summer on the inside and the outside and it was unbelievably stressful for me, and I wasn’t in charge of anything or dealing with misogynistic contractors like my mom had to everyday. I think the stress level of people in the house all day went:

1. Mom
2. Ferris (the dog)
3. Me

But just because I was third doesn’t mean I wasn’t stressed. I lost 25 pounds, which I’m happy about, but everyone around me tells me was stress weight and not a good way to lose weight. My body image issues probably deserve a blog of their own, but let’s just say I know it wasn’t a good way to lose the weight, but I’m not concerning myself with it too much.

As part of the renovation, we had a new roof put on the top of the house (where one would usually put a roof) and had the house painted and had bad wood boards replaced and it looked great!

Then we had a big hail storm. When I say big, I mean ping-pong sized hail with the density of golf balls. I guess those are kind of the same size, but the individual pieces of hail looked like ping-pong balls and felt like golf balls.

This was what our backyard looked like yesterday:

Hail Damage
There’s a giant blue spruce above that glass table that got hammered by hail. The glass table was surprisingly, happily, somehow not broken. But the roof and boards took a big beating and so I may lose some more weight.

Don’t worry, no hail made it into the East Room.

Phew, with all that out of the way, it’s time for another chapter from the beloved 2,034 page medical mystery novel Reid Levin: Medical Mystery – Volume 2:

“Chapter 11: That Time I Got That Thing Stuck In My External Ear” (abr.)

I noticed about two months ago that my right ear hurt any time I slept on it. It hurt to sleep on and then it kept hurting when I wasn’t sleeping on it. It also turned bright red. I took to sleeping on my left side, which I prefer anyway, but my right ear just kept hurting and glowing bright red. A little thingamajig started to form on my ear, which I immediately, in a total state of panic and illogic, assumed were a sac of spider eggs.

Before we go any further: allow me to state that there were not and have never been any spider eggs growing in my body. When I get weird bumps that start growing, I fear that a spider has laid her eggs in me because I had a substitute teacher in Fourth Grade tell me about a spider laying eggs to someone she knew. I think she made up a lot of stuff, or couldn’t tell the difference between awake time and asleep time. She told us all kinds of crazy stuff, like how she drove past this mystical car crash where everyone was on fire, then she thought better of it, so she turned around to help, but it was completely gone, like there had been no car crash in the first place. So the spider thing is completely irrational and I know that, and I usually play it off as a joke. Now you know the truth: I’m only kind of joking.

Teachers have a real effect on kid’s lives and I want to salute all those teachers who take this responsibility seriously and don’t just spend years fucking kids up because they think it would be funny. There have to be tons of people who get a teaching certificate just to mess up kids lives and we don’t even know it until kids go to the next grade and can’t do multiplication.

You can read more about this stuff in the unabridged version of this chapter, but, this being the abridged version, we gotta get back to my outer ear.

A thingamajig was growing on my ear and it was redder than the rest of my red ear. I went to the dermatologist who told me I had a corn on my ear cartilage, which was a genetic disease that only people over 80-years-of-age usually get. He gave me an antibiotic cream to put on it and told me to cut a hole in a pillow so as not to aggravate my cartilage when sleeping.

I started sleeping mostly on my left side, my previously mentioned prefered side, with my ear inside this hole I’d fashioned in one of those memory foam pillows. A few things happened:

1) My right ear started getting better.

2) My left ear started doing the whole turning red and painful thing.

3) I was scolded for sleeping on one side of my body by several of my doctors.

Eventually, both ears had some sort of bump on them. The one on the left responded quickly and appropriately to the antibiotic cream and I was able to sleep on the pillow with the hole in it on my left (prefered) side. The one on the right just had it out for me. It just wouldn’t go away or stop hurting if I slept on the hole pillow with it. It would go away for a while if I didn’t sleep on it for at least a week. If I slept on any normal kind of pillow, both ears got mad. So the hole pillow on my left (better) side became the obvious go-to.

For some reason, even though I was still putting antibiotic cream on it and not sleeping on it, the little thingamajig grew back on my right ear. Thus, I decided to return to the dermatologist.

Unfortunately, my dermatologist of 18 years wasn’t in. He’s definitely the doctor I’ve had the longest. That doesn’t mean I like him most, it just means he hasn’t messed me up. Which, in itself, is saying a lot. I’ve had a lot of doctors and, well, things happen.

Unfortunately, the thingamajig had to be removed from the cartilage of my right ear, which unfortunately meant that my ear would have to be cut into because that’s how you get to the cartilage, if you’re ever looking for it. The stand-in dermatologist told me I did not have a thingamajig, but rather chondrodermatitis nodularis helicis. I WAS CLOSE. She seemed nice enough and knowledgeable about getting rid of this thing so I let her get it out.

She proved to be a veteran at excising bits of ear tissue (pictured here working on a previous patient), but I still don’t like knives and needles near my face. They make me feel like I’m a pumpkin being carved for Halloween.

Oh wait, that wasn’t her. That was Mike Tyson biting off part of Evander Holyfield’s ear (possibly not for dermatological reasons). Ohohoho! Shame on me! But, in my defense, I do look like I had a bite taken out of my ear. It looks a lot like Mike Tyson or a tiny shark bit it off. It’s going to take several months to heal, which I can deal with. The interim-dermatologist made sure to tell me that she’d only seen chondrodermatitis nodularis helicis on the ears of people in their 80s.

I told her I needed people to stop telling me that.

End of Chapter 11 (abr.)


Writing, Tweeting, Losing Sports Championships. Plus! Special Bonus: Is Being A Dictator All It’s Cracked Up To Be?
Monday February 03rd 2014, 9:28 pm
Filed under: Denver, Liberty!, Me, Myself, and Reid, Sodapopcornculture, Who Knows?, Word Nerd

I’ve been wanting to write a lot lately, but I have a pinched nerve in my neck. It’s referring pain down to my thumb and forefinger, through the ol’ carpal tunnel, which I believe Chris Christie conspired to close at some point recently, for all but two tendons. In lieu of writing, I tried dictating to Siri, but that just didn’t feel like writing. Because it wasn’t. It was dictating. If there’s one thing I know for certain about my skill set, it’s that I’m a much better writer than dictator (to which the good people of Sincostan can attest).

Then I figured out I could just mash at my iPad screen for an experience similar enough to writing, but without the pain of actually typing. So here I am mashing away! mashmashmash!

Last night, the Broncos were crushed by the Seattle Seahawks in the Super Bowl. As a Denver native, I am obviously a sad fan. I’ve been tweeting about it:

1) As a #Broncos fan, I feel just like Mitt Romney on Election Night. Winning: inevitable. Losing: ha ha! impossible! We’re fools, Mitt. Fools.

2) Hard watching #Broncos blow championship in a night, but way easier than watching #Rockies take four to do the same. Plus that was baseball.

To understand that second one, you need to know, first, that yes, Colorado has a Major League Baseball team (the Colorado Rockies) and that, second, yes, they somehow bungled their way into the “World” Series.

Going into the Series To Determine Which Team Is The Best In The World Despite Its Only Participants Being Based In The USA Save For A Single Canadian Team (how worldly!), the Rockies had won 21 of their last 22 games. Unfortunately, the Rockies’ opponent was a real baseball team, the Boston Red Sox. The Red Sox clobbered the Rockies in a “best of seven games” series. The Red Sox were best in all of the only four games that had to be played.

Finally, it’s worth noting that I find watching baseball to be incredibly boring. Not as boring as watching golf (how the hell can anyone watch golf?!), but pretty damn boring. That is, unless I physically attend a baseball game with friends. Then it’s a nice outdoor social event with a game of baseball going on in the background. You even have to stand up occasionally–it’s good exercise!



P.S. This was originally just going to be copies of my two tweets, but it kind of got away from me. Mashing seems to soothe my writing cravings.

P.P.S. “Sincostan” is the cleverest and only math joke I’ve ever written. Or noticed, that’s probably more appropriate. Come to think of it, Sincostan isn’t even really a joke. Unless you consider portmanteaus to be jokes. Which I know you don’t. It’s okay, my feelings aren’t hurt.

P.P.P.S. Huh. I don’t have a dedicated “Sports” category. I wonder why that’s never come up before. I don’t have one for “Math” either. Weird.

In My Hospital Room & Nothing About DR. POISON Is Comforting!
Thursday November 14th 2013, 1:58 pm
Filed under: Health (Not Cancer), Who Knows?

I was just shown to my room. This was on the first table I saw:


I don’t know that doctor! In fact, I’ve never met anyone named Dr. Poison before! This is feeling more and more like an undercovery spy op by the second! I believe that, according to those papers, this doctor, Dr. Poison, is the epileptologist who will be watching my every move (including those made inside my BRAIN!) during my stay in the hospital.

Granted, “poisson” means “fish” in French, but: A) the person who wrote the doctor’s name down could just be very bad at spelling, OR B) thhe persson whho wroote thhe docctor’s namme dowwn coulld bbe usinng somme sorrt off verry clevver codde tto hidde Dr. Poison’s trrue identitty, OR C) the epileptologist that will be overseeing the overseeing of me could be a French fish.

It’s definitely one of those three things.

I haven’t actually spoken to anyone other than the SEEMINGLY very nice person that showed me to my room.

More information as it becomes available and/or I make it up.


A Very Honest Post About My Health In Which The Main Subject Eludes Me.
Thursday October 03rd 2013, 5:27 pm
Filed under: Health (Not Cancer), Who Knows?, Word Nerd

Earlier today, I felt super compelled to write a quick blog entry that included a brief update about my health and also about how I wasn’t just spending my time sitting around playing Nintendo, which led to the very brief blog post “I’m Not Sitting Around Playing Nintendo.”

In addition to the two health things I mentioned in that post, my hallucinations still going on and the ear and/or nose and/or throat disease I was given metaphors and antibiotics for, there was one other obnoxious health thing I wanted to touch upon. However, I couldn’t remember the words I’d been using for the entire past week to describe it and since I was aiming to write something quickly, I decided to just cut it.

Of course, as soon as I put that blog out, I remembered the word. And, as was only logical, I then proceeded to take a nap.

When I woke up, I immediately tried to recall the word, only to discover I’d forgotten it again. Even though I was moving around, suffering from this thing, the damn word I’d used over and over and over all week to describe it was gone. Again.

So I decided to have some lunch, clear my mind, return to my computer, and, with the greatest of ease, punch out this simple word that it turns out I STILL CAN’T REMEMBER.

The first word that comes to mind is “oxfinder,” which has several problems with it right from the start. First, I don’t think it’s even a real word, though I’ll admit that has rarely stopped me in the past. The second problem is that I’ve been using my lost word to describe an upet sense of balance, and I just don’t get that feeling from oxfinder.

Wait! I got it! Spirograph! I’ve felt like I was at the center of a spirograph all week, all wobbly and things rotating… this isn’t the right word, either. But it is much closer than oxfinder.

Man, I am getting genuinely irritated about this. I hate it when words fall out of my head. There are several reasons why that’s prone to happen to me, including my post-chemotherapy cognitive impairment (chemobrain), the few stupid medications I was put on during chemo that I’m still taking, these damn hallucinations preventing me from getting good sleep, and also, I should probably not overlook the fact that I am a human being and we all forget things sometimes. Though, I will contend that words do not fall out of your head as often as they fall out of mine.


Yes, excellent! Gyroscope is, in fact, the word I’ve been using all week without any impediment, whatsoever. Where did you run off too, you little word?

Like I was incorrectly explaining about a spirograph, I have felt that I’ve been in the middle of a gyroscope all week, all wobbly, with the whole world rotating around me. I’ve needed a lot of assistance to get around the house, because I keep feeling like my momentum is changing direction without my permission and that the gravity of the earth is teaming up with it just because they think it’s funny to make me feel like I should be walking on a wall. I don’t think that’s quite how gyroscopes work, but it seems preeeeetty close.

Anyway, gyroscope, gyroscope, gyroscope. That’s the word.

For more fun learning about subjects mentioned in today’s blog, here are some Wikipedia articles about spirographs and gyroscopes, both of which require so much more math to fuel them than I ever, ever could have imagined. Also, it turns out an OXFinder is a thing. I haven’t even the smallest desire to know how much math it runs on.

I’m the rotor in the gyroscope!


I’m Not Sitting Around Playing Nintendo.
Thursday October 03rd 2013, 9:30 am
Filed under: Health (Not Cancer), Who Knows?

I’m still suffering from hallucinations, plus I’m getting over some terrible thing that is either strep and/or laryngitis and/or pharyngitis and/or a sinus infection. Something that made it far too painful to swallow my own saliva. I went to a sketchy urgent care place where I was luckily put on antibiotics. The doctor’s exam was made up mostly of nonsense metaphors, like how diagnosing strep while not having tonsils was like being asked what kind of engine my bike has when I don’t actually have a motorcycle. Really, really, really confusing.

Hallucinations Are Severely Beating Me Up And Think They Have The Upper Hand For Some Reason.
Friday September 13th 2013, 11:47 pm
Filed under: Health (Not Cancer), Me, Myself, and Reid, Who Knows?

A few entries ago, I teased that I would post an entry titled “Hallucinations Slow Forward Momentum, But Fail To Stop It.” I wrote most of that entry before one of the very things I was writing about–that’s right, hallucinations–severely debilitated me. Although I still stand by the statement that these hallucinations haven’t stopped me from progressing, they have slowed me to, at best, the speed of molasses. Atypically slow molasses. Mmmoooooooolaaaaaaaaaaasssssseeeeeeesssss.

Earlier this summer, I began experiencing what I now know to be tactile and auditory hallucinations. That means I’m feeling and hearing things that don’t really exist (I’ll say it again: “stupid brain!”™). I’m not experiencing visual hallucinations, so I’m not seeing these unreal things I can feel and hear. I haven’t necessarily decided whether that’s a good thing or not.

Following the first hallucination I can remember from the summer, successive hallucinations gradually became more realistic and began occurring more frequently. They are now so realistic and are occurring so often that they are a huge distraction when I’m awake and when I’m trying to sleep. I’m having more sleep trouble than normal, which not only says a lot about the disruptiveness of the hallucinations, but is also the reason for my current constant, overwhelming exhaustion. Between the exhaustion and the distractions, most things that require any thought to do have become more difficult, especially things like writing(!!!), holding a conversation, and multivariable calculus (particularly Euler’s theorem on homogeneous functions).

I’ve been working with a doctor I really like and trust a great deal to figure out what’s causing these hallucinations. The initial theory was that the hallucinations were a side effect of a new medication. When I stopped taking that drug (under the supervision of several doctors), the hallucinations went away, only to return a week later, far more pernicious than before. There are more current theories as to what may be causing them, but they all require a neurologist to run various tests my nervous system and on my brain.

That is specifically delaying us because I haven’t been able to get an appointment with a neurologist before mid-October. My mother, Mom, has waited both on the phone and by the phone for great long chunks of time for opportunities to hopefully get me into a neurologist sooner than mid-October. I remain confident that I’ll get checked out before then, one way or another.

The only thing I’ve found that really keeps the hallucinations at bay is distraction. Simple, mindless things like making lists or organizing things seem to work for a while. However, the best medication remains spending time with friends. Even if I’m exhausted and can’t quite think straight, being with the people I love and enjoy most seems to send those spectres back to their own dimension for a few hours, which comes as very welcome relief.

This was way more than I thought I could sit down and write. And now, since I can’t think of a good conclusion, I’ll just say this:

Stop touching me.

Thank you,

I Forgot To Name This Blog Post Before I Posted It In (On?) My Blog.
Thursday August 08th 2013, 11:10 pm
Filed under: Attack Of The Internet!, Friends, Health (Not Cancer), Technobabble, Who Knows?

Dear blog,

I wanted to make sure to write in you today, so that I could have some kind of a streak. That way, when I inevitably miss a day of blogging, I can tell people, “Yeah, I may not have written in my blog today, but I happen to be the guy that wrote in his blog on two consecutive days. I know, I’m impressed, too.”

1) I went to the hospital this morning, where I had a bunch of tests run to gather data for my immunologist. Together, all the various weird tests were completed two hours ahead of schedule! Yippee!

2) As soon as I got home from the the hospital, I received a telephone call informing me that I needed to go back to the hospital because they mistakenly did not suck enough of my blood while I was there. I knew I wasn’t feeling lightheaded enough! Ha ha! Phlebotomy jokes! Yeah.

3)Those two hours I saved seem slightly less impressive now. But only slightly.

4) As a result of getting out two hours early, I was able to have lunch with my friend Summer today. You probably know Summer from the season named after her that is currently taking the entire Northern Hemisphere by storm. Ha ha! Meteorology jokes! Yeah.

4 again) Anyway, spending even a bit of time with a friend in the middle of the day gave me a big boost that got me through the rest of my considerably-less-interesting-day. It never fails!

5) It occurs to me that I don’t know whether what I’m doing right now at this very moment is writing in or on my blog. I thought I knew what I was doing all this time, but now I feel like a big phony.

6) It occurs to me that I’m using a lot of italics in this post. So here’s a big thank you to Italy for giving the world leaning letters to match your whimsical leaning tower:


7) I’m much more proud of the CSS I just wrote from memory than the really lame joke I used the CSS to create (I used geeky Internet code to make those letters bigger).



P.S. I made a few edits after I published this, which broke my self imposed deadline. I only spent a few minutes touching things up, though, instead of several months, only to totally rewrite the whole thing and then never show it to anyone. Getting better!

P.P.S. Argh. I’ve been editing and adding and rewriting for 30 minutes. That’s it, though, I’m done. I’m unplugging my computer now. Goodnight WordPress and goodnight editing. Goodnight, blog and goodnight rewrites. Goodnight, Web.

P.P.P.S. Oh no! My computer is a laptop!