Today I decided to go through the piles of hand-me-down children's clothes filling the blue room. Hubby and I were supposed to clear the boxes from the closet a year ago as we were converting Moosie's bedroom into a safe sensory/decompression/escape room complete with safety glass on the window, a swing, foam blocks to throw, minitramp, and (Bubba's favorite) a Jumpolene filled with heavy pillows and beanbags. Well, Moosie and Bubba broke into the closet and the someday-these-will-be-Moosie's clothes were strewn everywhere.
As I was sorting through the clothes, I found myself at one point lost in my own thoughts steadily picking at my elbow. I'm not sure how long I was sitting there picking, but judging by my elbow, it was for a good bit of time. Even though I couldn't recall what I had been thinking about previously, at that point I thought to myself "Why would the good Lord give someone with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder psoriasis?" And then it was clear to me, if I didn't have psoriasis, what would I pick? There are not too many socially appropriate options that I can think of, and dead skin has to be the least harmful, right? So today I think I am actually thankful for having psoriasis. Go figure.
Note: I doubt that my husband or former college roommate are happy that I have psoriasis. I thought it was my dirty little secret until recently, but apparently many a time they witnessed much elbow and head picking whenever I was deep in thought.
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