Shit. This will entail a trip to the doctor, and lucky me! No insurance.
I’m sure it’s herpes. What a wonderful life. I’ve lost my job. I don’t know how I’ll pay the rent next month, and now I have herpes.
How could I get herpes? That’s a good one. How could I not get herpes?
So here I sit, watching The Golden Girlson Lifetime (I should probably cancel the cable), remembering when it was funny to think that I identified with Blanche, the “human mattress,” as her elderly roommate Sophia referred to her.
Oh yeah, promiscuity was a real scream.
Which makes me think of the letter I got yesterday. How many guys have been “inside my house” lately?
Lots. Maybe one of them was just trying to be funny, in a sick sort of way, especially if he was one of the few I threw back after seeing how small he was.
Just as the show ends, the doorbell downstairs rings. A visitor? For me?
Why, I wasn’t expecting anyone.