Yesterday I donated blood for the fourth time. You'd think the hard part would be the actual blood-giving, or maybe the finger prick to test my iron levels and getting my blood pressure tested after being asked a barrage of questions about my needle usage. But no, the hard part comes at dinnertime.
This is because I am silly. This is what my mother would say. I wait just a little too long to start making dinner, and end up on the kitchen floor. The first time I donated blood, she had to revive me with a spoonful of honey nut butter. For the next two donations I managed to avoid having a smelling salts moment.
Unfortunately, I decided to make myself some oatmeal for dinner last night, and that takes a little while to thicken up. I kid you not, I barely made it to the sofa with my bowl before the lights started to dim. But I was able to nurse myself back with my bowl of oatmeal and all was well. Hopefully by the fifth donation I'll have learned my lesson and will make something microwaveable or something.
But the good news is that the vampires found my veins on the first try, and I managed to sneak out with an extra packet or two of Oreos. I'm thinking they're going to end up on the bottom of some delicious cupcakes. Because I'm a giver of life, love, and delicious cupcakes.