The Tush Push

By the by, last winter I got some gawd awful flu that had me hugging the toilet and and wearing toilet paper around my bottom like a pair of panties. (A thought just crossed my mind that this will a second post about the affairs of my tush). So I vowed on that day that I would get a flu shot this year. My husband (aka Honey, Dear, Max, etc), ever pragmatic and a stickler for making appointments, was making an appointment to get his a few days ago. So I jumped on the flu shot bandwagon and begged him to make an appointment for me too.

So we both wander to out appointment like good children, on the way in to the SHOT ROOM, he realized he had missed his name as they called it out, so he was sneaking in on my appointment. Him, being the charmer that he is persuaded the nurse that it was all good to be in the room with me to share the experience. Me being childlike at times, asked to get the shot first, since my name was called and he was stealing my personal shot time. I mean really. She acquiesced, and while she was sticking the needle in my tender arm I turned to my husband and said "Hahaha, I got my shot first." He answered so, and all the retorts that come with an answer to a dare of not being before his beloved wife in the fu shot order. I think we amazed the SHOT LADY with our childlike abilities.

In the end-as punishment for being in the flushot order of things, I got very sick whilst the charmer went on his merry way to the wine box he pulls out of the pantry. It doesn't pay to mock those in second. May the wine gods forgive me.