Why I Smoke (and Drink)

I called the radiologist today to make an appointment for a mammogram. I haven't had one in...well, I'm not gonna tell you because some of you well-meaning types will yell at me :) Anwyay, she said they had an opening next Monday, Feb. 7th. I have a conflict that day and couldn't do it. Her next appointment was Monday, Feb 14th.

I said, "That's fine."

She said, "Oh...that's Valentine's Day."

I sat there in silence for a moment. "Well...yeah," I said. "Valentine's Day is um...Valentine's Day."

"That's okay?"

"Yeah. That's fine."

So she booked the appointment and I hung up and suddenly I realized that she had probably thought I might have something, I don't know, better to do after work on Valentine's Day than get my tits crushed and nuked. I do not. In fact, getting my tits crushed and nuked will be the most Valentine's Day action my tits (or me) have gotten in years.

I couldn't wait to get home and have a smoke and a drink. It takes the edge off. Not much, but enough.