As you might well expect, I just love holidays. I love celebrations, themes, traditions and pretty much anything that gives me an excuse to purchase a special outfit. So, Halloween is basically the trifecta of experiences for me:
- Halloween season heralds the halt of icky summer yard work and the beginning of holiday season compulsive planning. (FYI, my life is a constant battle between my innate laziness and my love of making plans for tasks that seem like a good idea, but later I regret, complain about and try to avoid.)
- Brand new couture every year. Usually with sparkles.
- Candy, yo.
This year, I decided to be a Mystic Witch. This is a witch that doesn’t seem to have any discernible powers other than to get caught in spider webs and wear purple.
My husband, who is a paragon of spousal support, has dubbed this costume Gandalf the Purple.
I think he says that because he hates happiness and is secretly jealous that I look good in sparkly costumes. He could never pull Mystic Witch off.
So you can imagine how excited I was when, in keeping with the spirit of the holiday, Ethel made her return. Ethel is the name I gave a recurring bump on my wrist that makes an annoying and slightly painful appearance from time to time. Doctors and other professionals (my idiot co-workers) have told me it’s called a ganglion cyst, but you know it as that thing women get as they get older and more crone-like. Think of the arm that hands Snow White the poisonous apple. Perfect timing, Ethel. Not exactly Mystic Witch…more Wicked Witch. And it’s making me cranky, so there’s that.
The funny thing is that when we share minor maladies with those we know, people naturally try and offer help, based on their experiences, life lessons and what they’ve picked up watching Dr. Oz. Without fail, these well-meaning people all tell me to smash it with a book. Hard. Preferably a Bible. When so many people repeated the same advice (including my parents, who are required by law to love me) I decided to do extensive research on the question. After at least two Wikipedia articles and three patient online testimonials (cos who ever lies online?) I learned that many doctors still carry out this harsh sentence treatment.
WTF people? Haven’t we progressed beyond this brand of Puritanical medicine? But I guess it’s better than the alternative Puritan solutions to unusual phenomena. Still, I think it’s barbaric and a little bit scary. Not so much about the treatment, but more so that so many people seem to want to beat me with books.
Trick or Treat, Assholes.
Somebody pass me a Kit Kat. No, no…my left hand.
The Angry Suburbanite 