Under the Knife

This morning, I had minor surgury to remove 'a pound of flesh' from four different places on my person. Since the last time I was in this particular doctor's office, I passed out, the doc gave me a prescription for some meds, which caused me to feel a little drowsy, clumsy, dizzy, and even a little forgetful, but otherwise made everything happy.

As you can see, I'm going for a hyperlink record here.

I've only been going to this doctor for about a year, in spite of my loving mother's persistent encourangement for the past ten. She is convinced that, any minute now, without a moment's warning, I will keel over and die. Of course, after this doctor took one look at me, I think he agreed, for his eyes turned into little dollar signs ("I guess I can afford that trip to Barbardos after all.").

But, as uncle Hub says, "What do ya want me to do? Die of old age?"