I took Persnickety to the Pulmonologist yesterday, because she is on this narcotic cough syrup that causes things much like the effects of tripping on some acid or other illicit substance. I was allowed to sleep too late so my work plans got all mangled anyway. Why not just totally throw them out the window right? I finished working at one store and volunteered to schlep her to the shiny new doctor's office. Apparently in the 5 years since I moved from the large moldy apartment into this cinderblock crackerbox the powers that be made a certain roadway longer, and it now meets with another road that has been extended to meet the other one. Whodathunk it?
So I get in my mom-bus and there's a mosquito. I can't accurately take aim, so of course I keep missing the bug. I gave up for the sake of getting to Persnickety's house on time. In that 20 minute drive, my ankles became a smorgasbord of sorts. I carted Snick to the doc, and then since I was in the neighborhood of one of my service calls for the week, I dragged her with me for the sake of fuel efficiency. On the way, the pesky mosquito reappeared, after having its fill of my ankles. I tried smacking at it several times, and of course, with no success. Persnickety took one whack and caught the bugger.
She then turned to me and said "you can't kill it if you're giving it a round of applause"
Thanks Persnickety, for pointing out yet another inadequacy in my life: my ability to miss the target. Bravo.