Surprise.

After a friendly sharpied reminder on my hand, I finally remembered to call the doctor. Appointments this week are impossible... f'n midterms. Perhaps the best part about this call was explaining why I needed an appointment.
"My mole mutated and fell off my arm again."
"It WHAAAAAAAT?"
I'm pretty sure I spoke loudly and clearly, but I like to imagine the receptionist got the mental image of a mole hopping up and running away. Unfortunately, the soonest appointment I could get is March 22nd, a whole two weeks from now. Please don't pack up and leave on me again, Mole.