I think I’ve fractured my wrist. It hurts, and has been hurting for a couple days. I’ve been hoping that it’s carpel tunnel. But I’m starting to think that I need to go to the doctor, which I avoid. Like the plague.
Like going to the doctor will give me the plague. Doctors have the plague.
I don’t even know what I did. I’m pretty lazy. I stay in my house, and maybe go on a walk. How did this happen. I’m going to have to call my doctor. Oh god.
Out of all the things about being adult – doctors are my least favorite.
I make a pretty bad adult. I don’t even follow the instructions on recipes. I look at them, read them, start cooking and ignore all of them. Especially if they require effort.
But hey, yesterday I cooked food without any recipe at all. I made my own food with my own ingredients through my brain! Who even does that – Rachel Ray. Rachel Ray does that. Am I a chef now??? Did I make it?
I do not particularly care for cooking. I’ve liked it more recently since going out to eat is expensive and I’m cheap as f*ck. Cooking can be fun. But only if the food turns out well and I don’t hate myself while I eat it. The food I made yesterday turned out well.
Maybe I will survive to adulthood after all.
But only if I call my doctor.