the gravity of the situation

Yesterday, I told The Man Who Lives in the House that since he sounded as if he were getting as sick as I was, that he should call the doctor at 8 AM, to try to get an appointment that day. At 11 AM, I got this call:

The Man: So should I call the doctor?
Me: Yes, but call right now so you can get in today. I can drive you but only if we're back downtown by 3:30 PM.

At 11:15 I received an email from him, informing me that this website said he didn't have to go to the doctor. Oh, okay. I, for one, get all of my medical advice from a nameless website. (Apologies if the makers of the aforementioned website are reading this, no disrespect intended.) I read that website and it is incorrect. The very first question makes an assumption that one cannot have bronchitis if one has not been coughing for a very long time. Just Plain Untrue. At 2 PM, I received the following phone call:

The Man: So if I call the doctor can you drive me?
Me: Yes, but only if we're back by 3:30 PM. Or, you can take the train back to your car and drive the very short distance to the doctor yourself.

At 2:15, I get a phone call informing me he has made an appointment for today at 9:30 AM, and can I drive him? The reason for this was because the only appointment yesterday was at 3:30 PM and I couldn't drive him. Apparently the second half of my sentence was not comprehended. I was then informed in a sad, sulky voice:


"I can only hope I can make it through the night."

At which point I told him I was going to a bra fitting at Nordstrom's and then dinner with friend's and I'd be home at 11 PM, and that he should take copious amounts of NyQuil so that he was asleep well before I got home. I left unspoken the part where this was for his safety, because otherwise I'd come after him.

The bra fitting was for breast cancer charity. It led to great debate amongst the bra fitters. Why? I have been uncomfortable in my bras for some time now, but I was sure I was wearing the correct size. I bought some bras last week in a larger cup size. The Man asked me what the giant soup bowls were doing in my closet. I wore one of the new bras for the past two days and it was the first time I have not been adjusting, pinched, squeezed, or pulling up my bra straps all day long. I felt like I could sleep in this bra. However, the cups were HUGE. At the fitting, the fitters all wanted me to go up to this cup size. Every bra I tried on supported me well, but there was so much excess material in the cups I could have wrapped it around myself again. However, when I tried on what I knew to be my correct size, the cups fit but I had no support elsewhere. In the end, the fitters decided that I was really my originally determined size, but my breasts had the weight of the larger cup size.

Great.

I cannot even imagine what getting older will be like if my breasts weigh more than they're supposed to. And how am I even supposed to react to that? I can't buy bras that are too big for me, and the bras that fit me don't support me.

And is gravity only weighing more heavily on my breasts, or on other parts of my body as well?

In other exciting news, our courtyard was teeming with Federal police today. A homeless person urinated on the stairs. He was arrested and taken away in handcuffs. Because this is a Federal building, is it a Federal crime to urinate on the stairs, although nobody would have cared if he had done it say, three feet away in the street. Thirty minutes later, ten Federal cops were still swarming around the "spot" on the wall in the courtyard. One wonders what they do when not faced with such excitement.

The gloves are almost done! Then on to...the next pair of gloves!