Today I went to a city doctor. According to my primary care provider, there are no doctors in Hillmomba who do the same work this doctor does. I cry shenanigans! What he meant was, perhaps, that no doctors in his network in Hillmomba do this job.
Anyhoo, there I was, not exactly layin' back in a satin dress, but certainly in a room where you do what you don't confess. Oh, what I would have given for a satin dress! Or any dress.
After the exam, the nurse took me to the conference room. "Are you here with anyone? Do you want them to come in?"
HM: "Yes. My husband. His name is Farmer H."
Nurse: "Okay. I'll go get him."
I heard her go out and call "Farmer H." The next thing I knew, I was like a display in a living history exhibit. A short, rotund lady (SRL) waddled to the door. She looked at me. She looked down the hall. She said, "Room One? There's somebody already in here."
Nurse: "I know. And I brought you in."
The short, rotund lady came back to look again. "I don't think I belong in here."
HM: "No. This is not my husband."
Nurse: "Well, what is your name?"
SRL: "Charmer Rach."
Nurse: "Oh! I called for Farmer H!"
Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I was certainly not prepared this afternoon to deal with my new wife.