The alarm screams at 7:54 AM, tearing me out of dream in which I was awkwardly going back to my high school prom.
I am already not a fan of this day.
I do my best to get up and into the shower without falling asleep and slamming my head against the tile wall. Running downstairs, gulping a few spoonfuls of cereal and grabbing my keys, I
make it out the door just in time.
The rain and 45 degree day seem fitting. As does the asshole who cuts in front of me and then stops short to stare at a dead squirrel in the middle of the road. I’ve forgotten how much I hate driving. Going back to New York will be a blessing in one big, public transportation way.
Snagging a gynecologist appointment at home was a stroke of luck, but as I pull into the familiar parking lot, I can’t help but feel the pre-visit jitters. It’s not that I’m afraid of those stirrups and cold metal speculums, I’m just not happy to see them. Ever. Read More »















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