'did it hurt when you got your coldsore?'

Exactly NONE of you care. I'm telling you anyway.

After sleeping too little on a pillow a little too big--enough to piss you off--I introduced myself, wide-eyed and only semi-conscious, to April the 19th.

I had labored hard on my Youth Ministry project late into the night and the plan was to put the finishing touches on it this morning and get on with my life. "Getting on with my life"--this day at least--meant lacin' up the sneakers (for only the third time since their unwrapping this Christmas) and running on the treadmill, an oft-underrated piece of equipment. Honestly, I love the treadmill. Think about it--you run a mile, IN THE SAME PLACE!

After the run, I did the usual, turning a 15-minute shower break into a two-hour extravaganza. I didn't put on my clothes so much as I eventually acquired them.

OK so I played Guitar Hero and ate breakfast in my underwear.

My "life" resumed around 2 pm when I slipped my freshly-plagiarized project (jk, guys...) under my prof's door. Having that under my belt, I could find nothing better to do than to slip into my V-neck and head to Goodpasture for work, where my lip ring mysteriously assumes the guise of a cold sore beneath heavy bandaging.

Alex Kamer, one of my particularly bright 7th graders, was all over me.

"Did it hurt when you got your 'cold sore'?" she asked, grinning.