THE DOCTOR IS IN

For those of you who gaze wistfully in the distance when I mention being retired, please understand that this life is fraught with difficulty, but is waiting nonetheless for you, too, to arrive at the day you can take your morning shower at three in the afternoon if you so desire.

For instance, my action-packed schedule today left no time for reading my overdue library book or baking banana muffins.

Today I ate breakfast in bed. (Thanks #2 Son who is not afraid to employ technological advances, such as Door Dash, for our mutual benefit.)

I had a post-breakfast nap.

And I had a doctor visit.

 I did all this without venturing outside in the cold or taking off my bunny slippers. Well, I didn’t put my bunny slippers on until after the nap, so technically I just had them on for the doctor, who wasn’t aware of having a conversation with a woman wearing, among other things, pink Christmas tree earrings and biscuit crumbs.

Normally I’m not a big fan of the telephone, having answered it professionally (and in some instances very unprofessionally. I once slipped and called the doctor who employed me Hon) for forty years, but when the doctor’s office left me a lovely voicemail (see, no phone love here) suggesting I speak to the doctor by telephone instead of trooping down the stairs in the cold to the car and engaging in an updated version of Frogger on the highway to get there, I voted in favor of the phone.

Because I hate cold worse than telecommunication.

So instead of leafing through old magazines in a waiting room, I whiled away my time shopping online for a desk. Instead of complaining about the doctor running behind schedule, I played computer games. Instead of wearing my Leave the House outfit, I donned sweatpants and an old sweater.

And bunny slippers.

The doctor is in. And so am I.