My sister Polly (“It’s Another Fine Mess”) tells me that a person needs to pee before they get in a car. Her friend Connie the Paramedic (“Who Ministers to God?”) tells her when you are in a car accident, and you have a full bladder, the bladder blows up.
“Before you get in a car to go anywhere,” Polly says, “you must always pee.”
I tell Polly I always do that and I make sure everyone around me pees so we don’t have to pee when we are on the road.
Polly has taken a strong pain pill she needs because of constant neck pain. She is flying very high and happy on the medicine. She is talking so fast on the phone there is no way I can break in to make comments or ask questions.
Finally, I manage to thank my sister for the critically and medically important blown bladder information and say that I will pass it on.
This is an interesting day.
I wake up with a stinging rash across my chest and back, and I feel nauseous with pains in my stomach. Later, my tax man calls and says I owe $20,000! Twenty-thousand dollars! I had planned on $8,000. I heave a sigh, double over with the pain in my stomach, and sink into a deep chair by the fire. It is raining too—great gusts and swipes of driving rain and hail. (more…)