Therapy

My therapist was acting a little weird today. As I was walking down the hall of her office building, a tall man (I mean really tall. He had to duck a little to go through the door) dressed in black was walking in to her office. That kind of ticked me off, because that was my time to see her. Not his. Nuh-huh. So when I barged in (like every good ticked off cripple), the man wasn't there. Just my therapist, who looked up at me with that "What the fuck?" look on her face. And of course I was left there, leaning like the Tower of Pisa on my lovely cane, blubbering like a fish thrown on the river bank.

After being scolded for lack of manners, we got to business. That was when I noticed she was acting a little off. This is basically what went down:

Me: "What's wrong with you?"
Doc: "What is that supposed to mean?"
Me: "You're... acting weird. Kind of disconnected. And believe me, I know what disconnected looks like."
Doc: "I have no idea what you're talking about." (That tone was very defensive)
Me: "Does my therapist need a therapist?"
Doc: "Drop it. You are getting off topic. Now, about your therapy..."

And that was that.

Now, it's time for dinner - turkey on white. I am living the big life!


Adieu,
William A. Gordon