Cold
Today is Tuesday, yesterday was not. Tuesday—
It isn't Christmas either, so, take this as a reminder that the end of the year is nigh.
The little urchin with a snowball hit us yesterday and we broke several old records for cold.
I was able to get up in time to make the two hour journey to the 'big city' for a doctor's appointment. I grumbled all the way out to the van and then some.
Grumbling does little to change anything, and Old Fuzzy and I have been on many early morning adventures. He's a competent driver and although we saw several evidences of ice and snow accidents the Lord blessed us with safety.
And I got a cappuccino out of the deal.
Still, there is something wrong when a person is barely holding on by a thread of life, but they must be at the doctor's through rain, snow, sleet/and or hail. That last word may be spelled wrong.
Like my fellow actor in our high school play of Macbeth. We were amongst the three witches, and our line was supposed to be 'All hail, Macbeth, thane of Cowdor', but Audrey, with her somewhat southern accent had a habit of pronouncing it 'All hell, Macbeth...'.
I regressed. Anyhow, we made it, only to discover there was no test scheduled, they only wanted to talk about what test I should have.
My thought is, Ducky, why not ask the doctor ordering this test what he wants done, not the poor dumb patient?
In case no one but myself has noticed this it's a new ploy to get more money out of people.
In peering closely at the script of Macbeth and this doctor's visit there are similarities, and maybe Audrey was on to something.
