My doctor is a witch

You take the appointment that’s available and don’t quibble about the date especially if you are a first time patient. Without young ones in the house, I wasn’t hounded about October 31 festivities and therefore, the urgency and all its trimmings faded.  I forgot how excited people can get.

For the last 10 days I’ve had a nuisance cold — not harsh enough to lay me in bed with a fever and a death wish but enough to cause its own degree of misery.   Conveniently, I had scheduled my last two available vacation days for the 29th and 30th, leaving open the option of wandering through a mall or two, but I did not plan for the inconvenience of a stuffy head and not caring if Tom Cruise himself came to the door with flowers and saw an unkempt me in my bathrobe. “What do you want? Go away.”

I had originally scheduled the appointment for Friday the 26th, thinking I could leave work early, go to the doctor, and come home for a nice 4 day weekend.  “We’re sorry.  Dr. Wendy Whatshername is out all that week and would the following Wednesday be ok?” Fine. Is 8:00am open?

I walked in the door on time to fill out paperwork.   The receptionist was a scarecrow, hay sticking out her sleeves and hat.  “Please sign in and fill out these forms. I bet this looks silly.”  No, no. Not at all.  Well done.  The assistant came to the doorway wearing, strangely enough, assistant clothes.  “Come this way and fill this please” as she handed me a little cup and a towelette.

I was led to the standard little room with the familiar half-bed and stirrups to take off my warm clothes and put on a drafty robe and who should walk in but a witch.  She didn’t say “my pretty” or cackle even once.  The exam was standard procedure all except for the Elvira wig.  You’ll forgive me if I don’t recognize you at the Kroger.

Scarecrow checked me out and I checked into work.  Most did not come in costume, some did.  The little old lady with the white hair today had purple hair — spiked.  One manager was Donald Duck, another sported a 3 ft witch hat.  I heard a strange sounding footstep and saw someone in clown shoes.  One girl sported a cat-face.  Richard’s whole department brought back the 80’s.  How sad that the decade that was my prime is now retro.

Then here comes Angela.

angela.jpg  You’re late, sister.  Took a while to get those girls back in the stable this morning, eh?


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