Monday

A liquid dinner seemed fitting for the beginning of the week.

I just burned my areola

It's not as risque as can be imagined. I'm not the only one imagining something risque, am I? Because in my younger years there were sexier ways I could have burned my areola.

There was no sexy in today.

It's quite boring the way it happened actually.

We have a free-standing towel warmer in the bathroom. When I got out of the shower I tried to take my fluffy, heated towel off the rack but found that a corner of it was hooked on the clothes hamper sitting next to it. I leaned over to release the corner and that's when my areola made contact with a hot edge of the warming rack. I guess my body's perception of how low my breasts hang when bending over does not match with their actual, er, elasticity.

See. It's not really even a story but I'm telling it anyway because it's all I've got. And, yes, it does make me sad that the most blog worthy event of my day - maybe of my entire week - is so unexciting. You can be sad for me, too. And for my poor areola.