Good morning, dear readers. Like I explained to you a few weeks ago, I was going to need a ride to the hospital to get my blood work done because the missus doesn’t like driving in that area. My son Brian agreed to take me. The way I see it, he owes me because his generation is the one that’s bankrupting social security: There aren’t enough of them paying into it to properly support my generation. I paid into the system for years and everything was going smoothly, but once his generation showed up, they suddenly tell me I’ll never see a dime of it.
I’m not sure why his wife Tammy didn’t come along for the ride…probably working or something. She missed out on a nice ride, save for the conversation and company. I was hoping that Brian would bring my granddaughter Fiona along, but he said that she’s going to “day camp” this week. He said she’s having a good time, but wait until she gets to go camping the real way in my new pop up trailer. She’ll be tickled pink. Brian said they don’t even make a campfire at that “day camp”. What kind of a camp doesn’t have a fire?
At the hospital they drew blood, but before I got too woozy, I made sure to ask my doctor for Restasis for my dry eye (This was while Brian was out in the waiting room). I’ll be darned if that doctor wasn’t impressed that I knew who Dr. Tendler was. In the car on the way home, I brandished my prescription, much to Brian’s chagrin. I also let him know that the Kentucky Fried Chicken cole slaw he brought to dinner at my house last time was more like a creamed cabbage than a cole slaw. I don’t know why so many places do that, mixing up the names! I’ll eat creamed cabbage, but I much prefer a cole slaw. I just wanted him to know so he could choose something different the next time if he didn’t like the way they made their cole slaw, but he took it the wrong way and pitched a fit. It’ll take him a few days to calm down and realize I was only trying to help.
Until next time!