So I told myself, Can we stop and talk a while? And I resisted breaking into a song because that might be borderline schizophrenic.
I just need a little time with myself. Thirty seconds. Sixty.
Alright, thanks. We got an appointment. We got an appointment.
Okay, don’t waste your time, come on. You’re wasting two faces of time, yours and mine. Can we just stop and not talk?
Are you there?
Ten seconds. You’re losing it. Talk. That’s three seconds. Argh! I’m so gonna choke you tonight.
Three-quarters. Stop counting, you nuthead.
That’s it! Don’t ever call me nuthead again!
Except for the pockmarks on my skin that, like any breakouts, came with such a bad timing, I’m perfectly fine, and sane.