If you hadn't noticed, I'm enjoying putting several different subjects in the title of my posts. It keeps me on the path of what I intend to write about so I don't go off into no-man's-land -- even though that is a great vacation spot, so much better than hell.
I went to that damn exercise thing yesterday and I lived. I didn't expect to survive it, so it was an unexpected surprise that I wasn't carried out in a coffin. They pounced on me like I was a fresh fish entering a prison that was dying for someone new to violate. They circled their wagons (or assistive devices) around me and pelted me with questions in auctioneer style rapidity:
Them: What's your name?
T: Are you married?
BB: Going through a divorce.
T: How long were you married?
BB: 8 years.
T: Would you ever get married again?
T: Do you have any kids?
T: Do you want kids?
BB: No, I couldn't anyway, I had a total hysterectomy almost 8 years ago.
T: Are you upset about not being able to have kids?
BB: (Feeling like nothing is sacred.) No. I never wanted my own kids.
T: How long have you had MS?
BB: Almost 4 and a half years.
T: What medicine are you on?
T: Do you like it?
BB: Yes. Love it.
T: Are you from here?
BB: Yes. I grew up here.
T: Where did you graduate from?
BB: I graduated from _______.
T: Who's your doctor?
T: Do you like her?
BB: Yes, it took awhile but we are starting to understand each other.
And so on. I wish I was making some of those up, but I'm not. I felt like my brain was thoroughly picked and was mentally fatigued before we even started the exercises. I'm glad that they embraced me and were glad to have a fresh fish amongst their midst, but, DAMN! They seemed to be satisfied with my answers and decided that I was okay because they asked me to enjoy a cup of coffee with them after the torture was through. I threw the coffee down my throat, burning my tonsils, and left before the Spanish Inquisition could start again. I was afraid things would get even more personal and I didn't really want to get into how often I shave my legs, if my bowel movements are regular, what is my favorite position during sex, etc etc. A woman must have some mystery about her.
The vanilla-as-an-insect-repellent is working great for me. But those mosquitoes are sneaky little boogers and get into my clothes and bite me in places they should be washing their mouths out with soap for having gone there, or at least bought me dinner first. I had to get some of that After Bite for all my pre-vanilla bites and those that are in places it is illegal to scratch in public. I now douse myself much more thoroughly and as close to my unmentionables as I can. Now if I could find something to stop all the splinters I get from the brambles, life would be great.
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