In preparation for my upcoming trip to the hospital I decided to wax my legs. Not a bad idea, if I say so myself, since I'm fairly sure I won't want to (translation: will refuse to) shave for a bit afterwards. And I like it, but we don't need to go there.
So, a good idea all around, or so I thought. Evidently my imaginary friend (my main fan-fic character) caught an echo of my thoughts. Normally this is no bad thing either, since she's usually got a fairly good sense of humor about my 21st Century oddities.
However, when I dream about my 9th Century Anglo-Saxon equivalent mixing candle wax and honey to test out this hair removing phenomenon I start to worry about myself. Or her. I think she's finally lost it.
On the upside, the hospital woke me up before I found out the results of her experimenting.
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