Teeny Tiny Chickens

Hi Kara,


A teeny tiny chicken. Who is cold.

I currently have teeny tiny chickens. Two weeks ago I had regular tiny chickens, but then I got a tiny tumor thing cut off the back of my mouth, and my body said “fuck those tiny chickens, SHE’S EXPERIENCING PAIN IN HER MOUTH AND SHE CAN’T HAVE COOKIES,” which is my body’s version of CODE RED.

So then I went to your house. Ludo preformed a seance on me and the microscopic tiny chickens, that had been lurking in my head for two weeks, decided to become massive evil tinychickens of death. They attacked my nose and my lungs and my ears and my ability to LIVE OR LOVE OR EXPERIENCE JOY.

So here are the things that have sparked the will to live in me and gave me hope for a brighter future.

Puffs Plus Lotion:

Kara, get these. If my nose so much as looks at another facial tissue, it becomes red and crusty. Which is what happened.

Trader Joes Salve of the Gods

Beyond saving my nose, this stuff has also saved my hands this winter. The skin on the sides of my hand (south of my pinky) cracks and bleeds. I put this on my hands before bed and my hands have been so pretty and soft. And it could be because I was preventative this year, but my nose looked a lot worse than my hands do and it cleared it up in two days. Plus, I get to scream I’VE GOT SALVE and chase Andrew around every night before bed.

Happy Drugs from the Happy Doctor

Sinus infections suck and so do possible ear infections because of your(my) already damaged ear drums.

Humidifier (or a pan on high heat boiling water continuously for hours)(yes, mom I was careful)(No, I didn’t burn the house down, obviously)(Stop, alright, Andrew bought me a real one because he didn’t want to CLR the pans anymore)

Andrew walked into the entryway after work and couldn’t breathe because I’d made it so moist. I really like moist air. And moist other things. Like cakes.

And lastly, Many, Many Blankets.

I’m currently under two with my laptop on top. And MacBooks are legendary for their crotch burning.

My hopes for the future (she says on her death bed), is that tomorrow I can pop both ears, I have fewer coughs that get up more tiny chickens, and my snot is crystal clear.

I would post pictures, but I’ve just taken my NyQuil. So all is lost.

To the furthest star and back,


P.S. You’re correct. No one has the ability to be as melodramatic as I am about colds.

P.P.S. I’m so melodramatic about colds, in fact, that I didn’t even mention my wedding in less than a week. My brain has one focus, and that is to focus on my imminent death via tiny chickens.

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