13 weeks.

15 lbs.

Day of reckoning.

Doctor appointment, to review my blood results.

Got up at 430, to work early.

Left work at 315pm.

What the hell?

Ice?

Sleet?

Snow?

Sliding around?

Hello, Doc?  Uhm, can I reschedule?

What? Thursday?  This Thursday?  You are kidding, right?

I will not get out of my driveway.

You haven’t heard?

A storm is on its way.

When can I come in?

Can’t you just tell me if I can start buying green bananas?

Huh?  Just kidding.  Do you think I will live to see them turn yellow?

What do you mean?  I need to come in…. Is it bad news?

If it is, can you prescribe medical marijuana?

What?  No, I am not a pot head.

Why do I have to come in for you to tell me I am a dysfunctional idiot with a vitamin D deficiency and a sugar addict?

Do you make house calls?

Come on, Doc.  Lighten up.  I have a bottle of wine just waiting for your company.  Red wine.  And an apple.

You know what they say:  A bottle of wine and an apple a day, keep the werewolves away.

No, I am not calling you a wolf.

I just need to reschedule.

By the way, I need drugs.

I am a nervous wreck.

Get a pet?  Are you kidding?

I have 2 cats and a husband and all 3 of them are the root cause of my anxiety.

Of course I drink.

Wouldn’t you?

Take 2 aspirin and call you in the morning?

How about if I take 2 bottles of wine and a box of chocolates and 5 green bananas, and top it off with a hot fudge sundae?

Hello?

Yeah, ok.  I hear you.  You will be here when?  In 30 minutes?

Just bring the whipped cream.

And a case of wine.

 

Wolf

 

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