I exhibit all the signs of being an incomparable genius, that's what I do.
The Beau and I went to a semi-local VW Fest yesterday. This is the state where good VWs go when they die, to be reborn as either all-stock show cars, all-stock daily drivers, or some combination of dropped and street racer and wildly painted wacko machine. Ever seen a VW Bus drag-racing? Neither had I, before yesterday.
Anyway, we went to the VW Fest. Got there about 11, left about three. Spent those four hours in the gorgeous sunshine--not a cloud in the sky, about 70 degrees--looking for NOS (new old stock) parts and refurbishable things for the 1967 Beetle David just bought. I found, by the way, a window crank from 1967 and felt quite proud of myself. He found the other. Then I found an NOS gearshift head and giggled. Then he found a turn signal relay and started acting like Gollum. Then we got some sausage and a turkey leg.
Then I noticed that I had forgotten sunscreen.
I am the odd redhead that doesn't generally sunburn. Yesterday, though, I sunburned. So badly, in fact, that I had to call in today because I can't wear clothing. My normally buttermilk-colored arms are a shocking shade of dark pink, and my neck is a study in ow yow yeesh augh ouch. Let's not even talk about my nose.
I don't *think* I'll blister. It's been 16 hours and no sign of it yet. I'm living covered in aloe vera gel and cold wet rags. I did not sleep last night; turning over was a lesson in what it means to be truly stupid.
If ever I get badly burned in a fire (probably when some VW or another goes up in my face), please either unplug me immediately or feed me lots of morphine along with my Parkland-formula fluids. Thank you.