0451471075 (N) by Jen Lancaster

Author:Jen Lancaster [Lancaster, Jen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Author, Biography & Autobiography, Nonfiction, Personal Memoir, Retail
ISBN: 9781101897430
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2015-05-05T04:00:00+00:00

14.

SPRING FEVER

“I said, ‘I’m sorry, I’m not giving up my underpants. I know that I’m supposed to, but I refuse and you can’t make me.’”

“You fought with the nurse?”

“I wouldn’t say I fought. It was more of . . . okay, yes, I fought.”

Joanna and I are at a sushi joint together as there’s been a small break in the weather and I’m finally comfortable driving thirty miles south to see her. (Am not nearly as much of a weather god as Fletch.) Although we don’t normally meet up often enough, we’ve managed a few outings lately. Last month, we saw The Barber of Seville and a couple of weeks ago, we hit a concert with one of her daughters, which was a rare school night treat.

(Sidebar: Why am I so insane about staying home on school nights? I’m not in school, I don’t have children in school, I have a DVR to not miss any Important Television, and I work for myself so I can sleep/rise any damn time I want. School nights shouldn’t be an issue, and yet.)

(Additional sidebar: Sometimes I don’t understand my own stupid motivations and proclivities, like why I refuse to turn on the air conditioner before May first or the heat before November first. What do I win by freezing or sweltering completely by choice, save for not violating one of my long-standing, nonsensical rules? Fletch ignores these rubrics, of course, as we all know how he feels about The Crazy. He’s completely bypassed my odd prejudices by installing a few Nest thermostats, which I haven’t learned to operate.)

(Third and final sidebar: If in an impotent rage you try to smash a Nest thermostat with the heel of a loafer, you’ll be unpleasantly surprised at how sturdy it is. Also, I find these thermostats overeager, always springing to attention whenever I pass by their sensors, like they’re somehow looking to engage me. Recently, one of the sensors kept reminding me to change my furnace filters every time I walked into the dining room. Listen, when I want an appliance’s advice, I will ask for it. Until then, STFU, Nest.)

I’ve been telling Joanna about my “photo session,” which turned out to include minor surgery. After seeing my squatters up close and personal, the doctor excised them in order to have the pathology run. Thankfully, all came back clear. However, prior to the event, I was waiting in pre-op and I was told to change into a surgical gown long before they were supposed to wheel me away, meaning I’d be lying there for an hour without benefit of underwear, which, no.

Not happening.

I continue. “Turns out being a jerk was the right thing to do—they improvised with a pair of these stretchy hospital boy shorts and said they’d cut them off when I was under in the OR so I didn’t have to be commando while I waited. I also kept my pearls on.”

“Everything’s okay? I’m so sorry. I feel like a bad friend that I didn’t even know any of this was happening,” Joanna apologizes.

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