Someday I’m going to get pulled over for swerving in the vicinity of ice cream or candy shops, and on the news it will say, “She was driving at a glucose level of 15.8, which is twice the legal limit…”
Okay, I really have no idea what the glucose numbers would actually be, but I do know that if my blood is drawn it can double as chocolate syrup for a sundae.
At a check-up I was telling my doctor about my face plant fall, and he said I need to turn on the lights so I don’t break something next time. “Otherwise,” he said, “you could end up in a nursing home. And they don’t have desserts in there.”
“I could have someone bring me desserts,” I suggested.
“You’re missing the point of the story,” he said.
“So you say,” I told him, “but that factor could play into my decision.”
See?” I said. “We’re both patient. Get it? You’re the adjective and I’m the noun. Fine, fine, I’ll keep the lights on.”
Hey, lights on or not, you can watch my Youtube Mom videos here.