I have a blemish. Upon my face.

Why has my face produced this unsightly protrusion? I don't know. I made it all the way through puberty with only three pimples*, so why, now, at this late date, has my face decided to develop oil?

It's appalling and I so object.

Can I file a complaint? What we need is a BBBB** I can file a complain with.

When the warranty runs out on your car, it develops a thing, a noise or something***, and you have to take it to the mechanic and it costs you $500 to fix it.

When the warranty runs out on your body, it develops a thing and while you're getting it to the doctor, the transmission starts to miss and the brakes get mushy and the carburetor gets sticky and by the time you're limping into the parking lot, pieces are threatening to fall off. And there's not enough money in the world to restore it to factory condition.****

I took on this body under the understanding that it was a lifetime warranty. I'm starting to suspect false advertising.

I mean, wouldn't you think that when Marvelous Medical Miracles started becoming commonplace and we all started living to be 90 instead of falling over when we were 45, wouldn't you assume that the warranty would automatically be extended and that we'd all enjoy perfect health for at least the first sixty or seventy decades?

I know I did.

Okay.

Laundry done. Coffee slurped. Bedroom tidied. Laptop packed up and ready to go to the computer store. Shower accomplished. Hair a ghastly mess. Breakfast finished.

I still need to vacuum and actually get into my car and drive the laptop the entire three miles to the store.

In short, I've accomplished pretty much everything I can accomplish***** without leaving the building. It's time to brave the Summer Inferno.

Footnotes To My Life would make a good book title. I probably wouldn't read it, it doesn't sound like my kind of thing, but it would be an interesting title.

_______________

* Could have been four.

** Better Body Business Bureau

***My mother used to call that, "a hitch in your gitalong." Never say this blog isn't educational.

**** Not that I'd want to. I mean, not if it meant going back and starting all over again. I wouldn't relive anything before my 30s, not on a bet. (Although I'd go back to when I was 18 and beat myself up until I promised never to start smoking....)

***** Pretty much. Short of vacuuming.