This morning I put on makeup for the first time in days. I have to admit, seeing my mirror reflection without eyebrows was getting a little depressing, so the Maybelline therapy was rehab for my flagging spirits as well as my sagging upper lids. The only fly in this ointment is that I have a lab appointment at a local clinic that I can't afford to postpone any longer. This requires me to leave my safe haven and mingle with humanity.
This is all so weird, so Twilight Zone-ish. Last Friday I was wondering how I should feel about forced restrictions on my activities. Today I am worrying about having to venture out to a public place. [Cue the eerie organ music.] Is the doctor's office—staffed by professionals who know all about sterilizing surfaces and containing contagions—one of the safer public places to be? Or is it one of the more dangerous, considering the walking germ factories that some waiting room patients could unknowingly embody?
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