So I have someone in my life, and to be discreet I won't say who it is, but this someone often asks me why do I have these weird interests and why can't I be normal and like other people. To which I don't respond, because really, what the fuck can you say in response to that? First off, when I attempt to "be normal," I wind up even stiffer and disconnected than when I'm completely wacko. What's normal anyway?
So I went garage saling with Winter this morning. We walked around her development for an hour chatting with her neighbors and checking out the goods. At one table I stopped dead and gazed in wonder. It was totally awesome. "Winter, don't you want this?" I asked, for she was the one with the cash.
It was a plastic model of a liver. Even better--it showed the liver in 4 sections: normal, fibrotic, cirrhotic, and cancerous. And the four pieces snap off so you can look at cross-sections.
"You can use it as a paperweight!"
Winter had a better idea. She has an alcoholic friend and is using it for a lighthearted intervention.
Yes, she purchased it.Her neighbor's son got it for free when he was in med school. It's Gilead drug swag. We walked around taking it out of the box and showing people our cool find.
I had a great morning. It's wonderful to have people who understand you, and the lure of a plastic liver.