Anne Lamott has her “aunties,” her butt and thighs nicknamed on a Club Med trip, but I too name body parts.
In deference to Mom, I won’t say what I call my calves and feet when they jump and keep me up till 3 or 4, but they most definitely have names. Honestly, it’s in deference to modesty, too (I am clever at 3 a.m.)
This past week, they got a lot of nicknames. One night, that’s all, one night they did not jump.
I spent most days in a haze and most nights waiting with dread for the itch that precedes the jump.
Making things worse, my sleep mask was unbearable.
This week can’t be worse, right?
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