Dried up.

Argh! Cold, dry air is wreaking havoc on my skin. I looked in the mirror at work last week and discovered a patch of inexplicably dry, flaky skin on my face. Rash? Eczema? Zombie infection? I don't know, but the next day I scoured the shelves of the store for some relief, eventually picking up a humidifier. The humidifier works pretty well, except it can't go with me to the office. Actually, it probably could, but it hums pretty loud and I don't want to be one of those people. You know, the cubicle resident whose weird habits and loud phone calls (complete with graphic details of their last doctor visit) drive the others nuts.

And then my face broke out. In five days I went from the gorgeous man-child I've always been (see picture) to a dried-up, pimply facsimile (picture not available). So I went to the dermatologist, seeking respite from this epidermical epidemic. The doctor took samples, gazed through his microscope (side note: dude has a microscope at his office, that's kinda cool), and came back with a seven-point attack plan. Seriously, the guy was on top of his stuff. I have to change laundry detergent and moisturizer, stop taking some prescription pills, take some other, different prescription pills, smear on some prescription cream, bathe less (yeah I'm skipping that one), and shower with warm, not hot, water. He seems confident that it'll work, and given the results I saw with him before, I trust him.

I just wish he knew what to do about my cravings for human brains.