This has been a real spleen-rattler of a day, let me tell you.
This morning, the Missus was scheduled for a visit at the orthodontist. Meanwhile, Yours Truly skipped the usual post-Minyan breakfast to prepare for yet another in a series of morning teleconferences.
Teleconferences are the price I pay for not being a fish in the Death-Aquarium that is the headquarters of the Great Corporate Salt Mine.
But no sooner had I arrived back at Chez Elisson - site of my Home-Based Office - than I got a call from the Missus. She had a flat tire and was sitting in a parking lot about three miles down the road.
Being the Good Husband I am, I sped to the rescue. Hop, pop, and She Who Must Be Obeyed was on her way...and I made it back in time for my teleconference to boot. I would have grumbled a whole lot more had it been raining, but fortunately, the precip held off until this afternoon.
Later - in the midst of the aforementioned Precip, as it happens - I headed out for a brief appointment with the Skin-Doctah Lady. SWMBO had seen a couple of spots that looked, to her suspicious eyes, like Trouble. Gotta pay attention to them spots, chirren. I’ve lost one colleague to melanoma, and I ain’t going there. (Keyn ayin hora.) One spot was just below my neck; the other was (ahem) in a Delicate Place.
Friends, there’s nothing quite as enjoyable as displaying your Nut-Sack to the Skin-Doctah Lady and showing off your Miscellaneous Knobbly Bits. Especially with a chubby young Physician’s Assistant around. Sweeeet.
But I made one thing very clear: Keep all sharp implements away from “Mr. Happy.”
I mean, how much excitement can a man stand in one day?