Perhaps I was a serial killer...

Remember in The Sound of Music when Maria and the Captain sing that somewhere in their youth or childhood, they must have done something right - because they have found each other. Awwwww. Well, I must have killed people, or stolen from the poor, or desecrated holy places - because things are not well in my life.

Since I arrived in Arizona, I have been fighting a truly awful cold. I thought I had it licked for about a day, so I exercised, and my lungs immediately coughed up contagion and I am green once more. Then, I got a painful cold sore. Which sucked and seemed unfair. During these physical trials and tribulations, I have struggled to find employment - and failed. I am out of almost all of my prescriptions, Erin desperately needs money from me, and I have no - that means NO - job prospects on the horizon. My employment agency agent doesn't even return my calls. Nobody responds to my resume. The one job I thought I had sewn up turned me down because of my shoddy - no, abysmal - credit history. It reflects poorly on my character. Well, what can you expect from a former desecrating, thieving, serial killer? Poor credit is simply par for THAT course.

Anyway, I had a very small note-taking assignment last night - they told me to be there at 4:00pm. I arrive, the woman looks at me and says - "You're very early. We don't start until 5:30pm." Perfect. So I leave and start driving around aimlessly. My left eye begins to water a bit and it feels like I have something stuck under the eyelid. Uh-oh - this is a familiar sensation. It gets worse immediately. Now I REALLY know this feeling. Conjunctivitis. Pink eye. I run to a pharmacy - "yeah - that's what we in the business call PINK EYE," says the pharmacist as he throws himself AWAY from me, making the sign of the cross as he hurtles back into space. "And no, nothing will help without antibiotics," he shouts from across the store.

So I head back to the office to tell them my problem - and the reason it IS such a problem? Well, I do all the typing on the client's personal computer. By now the eye is starting to swell up. At least they'll know it really did come on fast since they all saw me at 4:00 and I seemed fine. The client says she has no option - she'll have to use me. So I wash my hands alot. Clean her laptop ALOT. And I type for about 4 hours. By the end of the four hours my eye is almost swollen shut. And the gunk is disgusting. I notice that people can't look me in the eyes. Well, one of the eyes anyway.

I drive home and terrify Jennifer who starts screaming at the sight of me and forbids her dogs to come anywhere near me. Ever again. Typhoid Mary - I've said it before and apparently I am justified in saying it again.

During the night, my other eye develops pink eye. In the morning I wake up with my eyes glued shut. Both eyes. Laughing (but not with much humor) at my sad, sad state, I feel my way to the bathroom, mummy style.

Mom walks around with bleach and Lysol to clean up my any surface I may have touched. Everything I wear or sleep in is being sterilized.

And still no jobs.

So yeah, murder and mayhem must have been my style for many years for me to have earned such a backlash of pestilence (and puss). Oh, GROSS, Andrea.

Keep your children locked up and away from me. Your pets too.