I’m really starting to believe that this is not my imagination. I think I truly am losing it – my intelligence/sanity, I mean.
The other day I was in my bathroom, about to wash my face, and I called to my husband: “I think there’s something wrong with my arm.”
He came into the room and I told him about how I’d spent the last few days studying these dark freckle speckles on the back of my left hand and wrist. They were miniature specks, kind of like a rash. But with very tiny dark dots. And it wasn’t itchy.
I told him about how I’d spent the last few days trying to get them off. About how they were only on one arm. About how at first I thought maybe they were the remnants of mascara splatter, but how that didn’t make sense, because days had gone by and they hadn't washed off.
“Something must be wrong with me” I said to him. “Maybe I have a disease.”
He came over to me, and gently took my hand in his. He pulled my arm close to his face and examined my skin.
He then quickly flung my hand away from his face and, just as quickly and calmly as he’d walked into the room, he walked out.
“It’s spray paint!” he called back to me.
I’d spent a day last weekend spraying some plastic patio chairs. And then spent the following four days trying to figure out what disease I had. I'd spent at least 15 minutes of my life over the last couple of days trying to scrape the speckles off, and when that didn’t work, I was sure I must be ill. I was this far away from Googling my condition.
So, there’s no doubt about it now. I am awesome.