I got part way into the dress and found myself stuck. My head and arms were trapped. I couldn't get it on, and couldn't get it off. I had to call the saleslady to pull it off me.
I said, "Wow, I've never seen a size 12 that tight."
She looked at the tag and said, "It's a 2."
They aren't healthcare CEOs. They are insurance company CEOs. Their business isn't providing healthcare. Their business is restricting healthcare.
The problem with the never-satisfied, ultra-greedy oligarchs is that they don't just want a lot, they don't just want more, they want EVERYTHING. Anything you have, no matter how small, is something they don't have. They want it. This is why a man with $300 Billion will take away a grandmother's $1200 pension check. If she has it, it's not in his pocket, and he wants it.
I spend too much time trying to fine-tune the thermostat. There is no perfect temperature.
I entertain myself by looking up my symptoms online. Well, that's entertaining in the same way slasher-horror movies are entertaining, which is to say, it's alarming. I follow the links and make sure I'm looking at legitimate medical sites. Apparently, I'm doomed. The good news is, it's never as bad as a thorough web search indicates. Even when I had cancer, my case wasn't as bad as the stuff I found online. Being prepared for the absolute worst has the interesting effect of making me quite calm when I talk to the doctors (I know they can't tell me anything worse than what I'm already expecting. And when the diagnosis and treatment aren't quite that bad, I end up feeling almost cheerful.
Whenever I suggest moving out of a horrible state, people say, oh, but folks can't afford to move. If they're trying to kill you, you can't afford to stay.
Illustration: Mad Fashions, Od Fashions, All Out Fashions; or, The Emblem of These Distracted Times (1642)
No comments:
Post a Comment
If you are a real person making a real comment, your comment will appear after moderation. Thank you for your patience.