Hick took today off work to haul me to the doctor. No city driving for this ol' Val. Good thing I checked out the directions at the last minute. More than five people had told me my appointment was at MoBap, in a professional building. I guess the amateur building was eagerly awaiting for some calamity to befall the professional building, so that he could take over the duties, like a first runner-up in a beauty pageant, or like an understudy for Bette Midler in a Broadway performance of Rochelle, Rochelle in the event that a Humpty Dumpty with a melon head bowled her over while she was catching for her softball team in the Show League.
Huh. My appointment was NOT at a MoBap professional building, but on down the road a piece in a stand-alone facility. Hick had his Garmin, the generic version, which performed admirably at finding the address. I wish I could compliment Hick on his driving skills, but this is one area where he does not excel. Okay, I got there an back alive. That's the good news. The bad news is that I had a bit of a rough trip.
Hick's sweaving skills were in rare form today. He's a Master Sweaver. Hick is the sweavingest sweaver who ever sweaved. Any other travelers on the roadway might have looked into T-Hoe's passenger window and assumed that Hick was transporting a cobra being enticed out of a wicker basket on the front seat by a pungi played by a charmer on the back seat, so rubbery were my head and neck from all the sweaving.
Hick also has never met a speed limit he cared to obey. That's fine on the interstate, because the other drivers and Hick are simpatico, but on the blacktop roads, he really needs to slow down a bit. Those roads are rough and crumbly, with a plethora of potholes. I was jarred so hard that the straps of my over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder slid right off my shoulders. My boulders themselves jounced like big rocks on that very first shake table those crooked Hoffman people used in the first season of Gold Rush.
Still, Hick got me to the appointment on time. A little early, even. And as Val Thevictorian's luck would have it, after the exam, she was shipped over to MoBap itself for another test. Hick piloted me there without incident and waited for me to be sprung. He even dropped me off at the door. Unfortunately, our day took way more time than either of us had anticipated. The sweet pregnant lady doing my test even offered me a snack. I declined, but had to chug down the bottle of water she gave me. For the test. Then she came right back for the plastic bottle. "We recycle these, you know." Another mark in the plus column for MoBap. I am having quite a time trying to find something to complain about with them.
Instead of stopping for a leisurely lunch at 2:30 on our way home, Hick elected to drive through Captain D's. Too bad it missed my menu review yesterday. Hick had a pressing engagement to haul home and unload and stack for the winter 100 bales of hay.
Here's the thing about our lunch. Hick went through the drive-thru, and ordered two fish sandwiches. We waited. And waited. "Huh. It might have been faster to go somewhere for a sit-down meal." Uh huh. I had my heart set on some Imo's Velveeta on cardboard, which was only feet way, but that darn minion of Captain D came to the window with our order. As the official passenger-seat food-hander-outer, I was struck by the redundancies in the wrapping.
I looked in the plastic bag for our sandwiches, only to find one of those flip-top styrofoam trays. I opened it. Inside were two foil logs. I opened one up, and found white waxed paper with the Captain D's logo on it wrapped around a fish sandwich. Are you with me here? Let's go backwards, from the way they wrapped it. Fish sandwich wrapped in 1) waxed paper. Waxed paper wrapped in 2) foil. Foil put in 3) styrofoam box. Styrofoam box put in 4) plastic bag.
I'll bet that snake charmer could have slapped a hunk of fish on a slab of roti and handed it to us with no wrapping, all while tooting at that cobra. No waste there.
Captain D's is no MoBap.
I think the foil would have been enough.
ReplyDeleteNever visit a doctor who works out of an amateur building.
So how was the overkilled enigma once you got it unwrapped from the conundrum inside the quandary in the paradox? I've never been to Captain D's.
ReplyDeleteI don't think I'd want to eat anything served up by a snake charmer.
ReplyDeleteWoman, you have to stop making me chortle at 5 am. Now the cat is roaming and the man will be awake and roaming also.
ReplyDeleteThe local eateries in my parts are big on Styrofoam ..... it being the cheapest way to handle take-out. My problem (besides polluting the environment) is that with a sandwich, it traps steam and the bread is one soggy mess. Was your bread soggy?
ReplyDeleteEnigmas wrapped in a Conundrums should be recycled but my problem is deciding whether to put them in with the aluminum cans or the plastic water bottles. Or do the enigmas go in with the paper and the conundrums go with the glass? Hope the test results were good and covered by insurance.
ReplyDeletejoeh,
ReplyDeleteI'm shocked they used foil when their waxed paper is cheaper. Oh. Wait. They used 4 times the needed wrapping. Wave bye-bye to logic as it pumps its wings and jumps out the window.
I never wanted to visit that doctor anyway, and after seeing his building, I don't especially want to go back.
*****
Tammy,
See? I KNEW I was providing a vital service. The enigma was delicious, so hot and crispy, on a long bun with tartar sauce and lettuce.
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Stephen,
Well, it's not like he's going to serve you his snake. That would be bad for business.
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Linda,
What the world needs is more chortle. I might just silk-screen a T-shirt to sell in the shop at my proposed handbasket factory: More Chortle. It worked for Will Farrell and Cowbell.
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Kathy,
My bread was NOT soggy. I attribute this lack of sogginess to two factors: 1) The waxed paper prevented the foil from holding in the steam held in by the styrofoam that was held in by the plastic bag; 2) we ate those sammies so fast that the moisture did not have time to condense.
*****
Leenie,
Each one must have its proper container to save on sorting at the recycling center. The enigma container is irridescent, and the conundrum container is paisley.
I won't find out test results until next Thursday. No use worrying in advance. I was not asked for one red cent in copay, so I assume most of my burden on the medical establishment will be borne by my primary and my secondary insurance companies.
What is a slab of roti? Rotini?
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteWell, Madam, perhaps if you were more of a world traveler, eschewing France with its wine and cheese and those nudie beaches for a more populated area, you might visit India, and learn that roti is a flat bread cooked on a griddle, looking a bit like a tortilla. Or you could just consult my BFF Google for "type of bread in India."
Alas, my summer vacation is still spent educating the masses.