Did you ever have a dream that caused you to dissolve into a fit of giggles when you told someone else? That just happened to me.
Apparently I had been visiting with a receptionist on the phone and we were discussing my symptoms. She told me that she could work an appointment in for me with the Medical-Psychiatrist (Is there such a person?) for the very next day.
Apparently I had been visiting with a receptionist on the phone and we were discussing my symptoms. She told me that she could work an appointment in for me with the Medical-Psychiatrist (Is there such a person?) for the very next day.
Okay, Stephen dropped me off in a timely manner and went about about his business while I sat down and chatted with the husband and wife team of doctors. The were slightly past middle aged and congenial. He asked only three questions then left, for lunch, I presume. Well, I was left alone to gaze around their slightly old fashioned living room where we had visited. I soon noticed that the wallpaper border exactly matched ours but there was a short wall just around a corner that wasn't finished.
How convenient, I thought. Just that morning I had picked up an extra roll of wallpaper border, and I'd have too much so why not quick finish their wall while they were gone. I could hear my husband's cautioning voice in my mind.
"You don't have enough time to get it done,” etc, etc, but I impulsively went ahead. H'm. There was some antique paper covering the unfinished section and as I tried to brush the dust off I accidentally pierced it, and lo and behold a stream of sawdust came pouring out. In the olden days many houses were insulated with sawdust, and evidently this was one of them. Fortunately, or unfortunately most of it poured down into the glider-rocking chair that I was standing on so wasn't very noticeable. I managed to put up the border before they returned, but naturally feel sort of sick and dizzy from having my head up-tilted and all that sort of thing.
"You don't have enough time to get it done,” etc, etc, but I impulsively went ahead. H'm. There was some antique paper covering the unfinished section and as I tried to brush the dust off I accidentally pierced it, and lo and behold a stream of sawdust came pouring out. In the olden days many houses were insulated with sawdust, and evidently this was one of them. Fortunately, or unfortunately most of it poured down into the glider-rocking chair that I was standing on so wasn't very noticeable. I managed to put up the border before they returned, but naturally feel sort of sick and dizzy from having my head up-tilted and all that sort of thing.
In they came, and with them my husband. He hovered by the door waiting for me to be done, and the doctor resumed his questioning. I carefully avoided looking at that Place By the Ceiling, and he was soon satisfied that he could help me with my health problems.
Meanwhile their mentally challenged teenage son had entered the room with them, and he was having great fun kneeling on the back of the rocking chair and pushing it back and forth. My eyes nervously flitted that way as the amount of sawdust under the chair steadily grew. The doctor's wife also noticed.
“I wonder where that came from,” she muttered as she swept it up.
I tried not to act hurried as I got into my winter coat but decided it was definitely time to leave.
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