And my ankle wound, the one I earned from my spill on the ice is still a gory scab. What in hell is up? My body doesn't want to heal at all!

I wish my sewing skills were more up to par. I wish my mom had all the time in the world, so that she could unleash all her master seamstress knowledge.

My hair bangs are being persnickity. I'm trying to grow them out in parts so that all i've got left is baby bangs, but i'm weak. I want to cut the heck out of them, put the fear of good right back in their damned follicles. Unleash my skissors and show that effing cow lick who's who in this saloon.