Your Brain: Messing With You Since 1974.

Today's least favourite word for camwyn is also her least favourite skin phenomenon:

Formication.

Look at the word closely before you make the comments, please. F-o-r-m-i-c-a-t-i-o-n. It has nothing to do with naughty matters. Formication is the sensation of insects, particularly ants, crawling over your skin. I have long been subject to odd prickles of tactile sensation that have nothing to do with what's actually going on- the feeling of having walked into a single strand of spiderweb, for instance, or the occasional pricklybit that doesn't mean much- but lately it's gotten out of hand. Not because of magnitude or intensity, but because every time I feel it across bare skin while I’m in my apartment, I have to look down and reassure myself that the Blattidae cucaracha from last month hasn't returned from the grave and brought its zombie friends.

No, I haven't seen a single roach since the one who died at the hands of Dr. Bronner. YOU try telling my brain to be logical sometime. See how long you have laughter ringing in your ears.

This is on behalf of crispengray.

I've just now (5:26 PM Eastern time) got off the phone with him. His sister-in-law is still alive, but hasn't got much longer- a few days at the most, he thinks. Most of the family has arrived by now, including her family. He's holding together, but won't be able to communicate much online for a while- the children are being distracted with the computer, so he doesn't get much time at it. The preparations are in place for her actual passing, and now most of what remains revolves around the hospice workers and the waiting.

I strongly suggest that those of y'all who know crispengray pray for him and his, all right? Doesn't much matter what religion you are, they'll take it.

Thanks.