Words. I love words. I love reading them, I love listening to them, boy do I love speaking them... I think I got the bug from my mother, who has the same affliction - the need for le mot juste, the perfect rejoinder. When most kids were hearing Dr Seuss or The Hungry Caterpillar, I was listening to Ogden Nash or Robert Frost. (I can still recite all the words to Richard Cory from memory.)
Which is why it drives me nuts when I can't remember a word - especially one that I've made an effort to commit to memory. I have this skin condition - it's not a big deal, especially in the grand scheme of things, but it means that blotches of my already beyond pale skin are even paler (we're talking into the phosphorescent range here), and my stomach is basically pie-bald. I've had the condition all my life, I've researched it (because that's my default mode for any oddity), and yet, I can never remember the damned name.
Thank god for Google. Otherwise, I'd be spending most of my morning trying to remember the word Vitiligo.
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