So I was doing my impression of a bacteria…

Can't even THINK about reproducing
Can’t even THINK about reproducing

How is your week going? Good I hope! I’m writing a book on the history of religious ideas from the Stone Age until today and its going as slow as a stoned tortoise.

Yesterday my grown daughter, Mica, woke me up:

I have to go to the hospital.


I have to go to the hospital. Get dressed.

3 minutes later…


Are you ready yet?


I dislocated my shoulder!

Ono. I have to take you to the hospital.

Yes. Get dressed.

Stumble, stumble, jeans, shirt….do these shoes even MATCH?


Shall I comb my hair?


But I’ll scare people…Never mind, let’s go.

It’s really, really cold in those ER waiting rooms. That is to keep down the bacteria, which prefer more tropical climes. I curled into a shivering ball in my little plastic chair.

“Hey, Mica…how do you like my impression of a staph germ?”

“A staph germ?”

“Yeah, you know…I’m an ER germ, but I’m so cold I can’t even THINK about reproducing.”

Embarrassingly, the nurse had walked in right before I delivered my line. “Uh, I was just doing an impression of a staph germ…” She looked at me briefly then burst out laughing.

Phew. Then she brought me a blanket, which was nice of her.

Mica got a sling and three shots and is mending. She says she’ll just call an ambulance if she ever get hurts again.



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