I took advantage of a break in the weather and went to Crapchester on Friday to get my third tattoo treatment. It hurt. So bad. Easily as bad as the first treatment, and there was a lot more blood this time. (I'm squeamish enough that typing "blood" right there kind of gave me the willies. That makes it hard to change the dressing everyday, but I do.) (Yes, those are my baggy pants and house slippers. Once you've lived in Japan, you can't be in a house without house slippers on.)
My doctor, the one with the sick sense of humor, laughed as I yelled, and said, "Ready to go on the college circuit and tell them what alcohol leads to?" (I hadn't been drinking when I got my tattoo, but point taken.) I had the nicest nurse who told me I could squeeze her hand to distract myself from the pain. What turned out to be really distracting, however, is how she didn't flinch when I thought I was crushing her little bones. I'm a weakling, it's true. I can say that I haven't felt any discomfort since the treatment, so it looks like this recovery period could be another easy one. And I have my next treatment scheduled for mid-April. I hope it only takes two or three more.
I have to say that every time I go to Rochester, it's sunny and beautiful out. It just seems like a really nice area. And every time I head back east to my little town, it's dark and cloudy. Perfect. :/
While driving home on the Thruway I was talking on my cell phone and I got pulled over by a State Trooper. I rarely get pulled over, but when I do, I don't protest or complain. I hand over my license and registration knowing I'll gladly pay whatever ticket I get because I think of how many times I've been doing something wrong and haven't been caught. So when it actually happens I just feel like it's my turn. So the guy takes my information and goes back to his car, and then returns almost immediately and knocks on my window. He has a very sheepish look on his face.
"It's your lucky day" he says. "I just locked myself out of my car. Can I use your cell phone?"
So Trooper Dan and I sat in my car (it was about 20° outside) and talked for about 40 minutes while his buddy brought him an extra set of keys. It was hilarious. (I so wanted to say, "Dude, I am totally blogging this.") Sometimes when I get to laughing I just can't stop, and this was one of those times. He was so frustrated and embarrassed, and I was just giggling myself silly. It was such an absurd situation. Eventually he started to loosen up and see the humor in it as well. When he found out that I'm a former banker he had all kinds of financial questions, so we discussed his retirement account at length. And then I had a chance to ask all the police/trooper kinds of questions that I wanted to. (Does it get boring? What was my ticket going to cost? What is the most common reason for pulling people over?) He was very gracious, and when his buddy arrived, he said to Trooper Dan, "We are NEVER going to let you live this down."
So no ticket for me, and I met a really nice person. I call that a good day. And as soon as I drove away, I called my sister to tell her all about it . . .
Update: People, people, people. You all know me better than that. If he was cute and available I would have said it in the title of the post followed by twenty exclamation points. Or I would have just taken out full-page ads in all the major newspapers to make sure everyone knew. He was cute. And married. But don't think I wasn't picturing us telling the story to our grandkids before I saw the ring.