Every year when I visit my lovely gynocologist to do my health (fit as a fiddle), wealth (take my money) and stealth (ninja power level 9000) check, I usually do the same things:
- I forget how to get to the office. I remember on the way there.
- Once arriving, I try going through the same locked door. I walk down three feet and find an unlocked door. The mysteries of building security.
- I see at least one child being mischievous. It was two this time. They were both wearing surgical masks and a newspaper was suspiciously crumpled near them on a chair.
- The waiting room has at least one baby, usually more, and a few nervous and bored fathers. I suspect the nervous fathers are first time dads and the bored ones have been through the process a time or two.
- I ask the health tech if I can use the restroom like I’m back at school and am expecting to be told no and asked to finish my homework first.
- I eat a sucker at the checkout desk after everything is done. Why? Because I forget how old I am. And the check out secretary just smiles and hands me my paperwork. Peace, lady. ☮️
- I miss my turn on the way out to get back to the main road. Every. Single. Time.