Here's what I really wanted to say:
It occurs to me that I'm lucky to have been born with bushy eyebrows. When I was growing up, the biggest aesthetic thorn in my side, the bane of my physical existence was my eyebrows. They were thicker and darker than a proper girl's eyebrows should be. And they were forever threatening to join forces on the bridge of my nose at night while I slept. Every single day of my adolescence, I cursed those tenacious, virulent brows and took to them with tweezers - the only weapon I had that could keep them at bay.
Turns out, plucking eyebrows can be very meditative - once you build up a little resistance to the eye-watering pain. You even kind of feel you're accomplishing something. It's a lot like weeding.
Now when I'm faced by that blinking, taunting cursor - I reach for the tweezers and pluck til I get carpal tunnel - and miraculously I still have lots of eyebrow left at the end of the day! It is thus that I have learned to appreciate, even love these prolific, invincible brows.
Okay, that's all I wanted to say. I'm starting to feel much better. A steady infusion of Rickie Lee Jones', Flying Cowboys is also working a little magic.
Thanks for letting me write!