I guess my body is having a delayed reaction to all the transitioning I went through last week, when my brain went OHMYGODEVERYTHINGISSODIFFERENTIWANNAGOHOME! Except it was far more complex than that because there was no way in hell I was going to leave The Frenchman. And besides, there’s all that reallly good wine in the pantry. And fresh black grapes. And figs. And…and…
This doctor didn’t speak as much English as the lady doctor and even gave me a referral to a specialist. Hot diggity! Meds, expensive doctors. Just what I need. (Not.)
I suspect I’ll be fine soon. The Frenchman is in New York for another gig. He’ll be back on Monday afternoon. My transits bite ass that afternoon, all the way through ’til Wednesday. Why-oh-why? Then, one great transit kicks in on Thursday with another that is oh-so-very-awful by Friday. These are long ones. What could be great and awful all at once?
Don’t answer that.