Someone take my polyp, please

I just love roses.

I just finished making grilled cheese sandwiches with Boar’s Head Ovengold Turkey. Rose, my roommate, helped. I could barely stand by the time the sandwiches were ready.

I’m sitting and eating now. I really wanted to write but, I think I’m going to have to go upstairs and go to bed.

It really hurts so bad the pain is making my eyes tear up. I swear I would rather feel the pain of my knee surgery. At least, the pain meds were effective. I’ve taken four ibuprofens since this afternoon and they barely made a dent.

Plus, I burnt my arm on the oven door. Oh yay! Actually, it barely stings. It makes me more mad than anything.

Now, that I’ve eaten some hot food, my abdomen hurts less. I think the polyp likes heat.

I should call it the, “polyp baby,” because Dr. Bernal told me that the pain is from my uterus trying to expel it. Maybe I should name it.

How about, Wade? Shirley? Betsy? Abner? Dennis? Jemma? Juanita? I could give it my favorite drummer’s nickname: Bonzo. Since it’s a source of pain, I could give it the name of one of my ex-boyfriends, like, Gary. But, my friend, Pat, is married to a Gary and he’s a good guy. I might just refer to it as Throckmorton.

My very first psychology professor was hilarious. Pat had him too but, during a different semester. Dr. Mauny was a University of Florida grad and, just for fun, he would mockingly make fun of Georgia.

This was at St. Petersburg Junior College or, SPJC. It’s now St. Petersburg College. It was the second oldest junior college in the US. The elevators reflected that status. It was always wise to use the stairs.

Whenever Dr. Mauny had to demonstrate a certain psychological principle and it involved using pretend people, he’d usually use male characters and name them Throckmorton. It would crack up the whole class everytime.

I think it had a lot to do with his Southern drawl and that he’d refer to Throckmorton as, “Little Throcky.”

I think it’s time to eat a frozen fudge bar and then go to bed. Yeah, I know they’re cold and I might wake up Little Throcky but, fudge bars are chocolate and I am weak against the magical power of chocolate. Plus, the Mayas would approve.

Rose said they were BOGO at Publix. Publix is evil.

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