I have Piles

I went to the Huntington Woods library to get some books on Paris . . . and thus maybe feel better after doing some "research". My phone beeped, which can get you kicked out of the HW library, with it's NO CELL PHONE signs strewn everywhere. While walking home, I checked the message and it was my father, Mr. Crabbypants.

"I now have piles . . . I hope you're happy."

Piles? Like some disease? He just went to the doctor. Is that the chickpoxey thing that isn't chickpox but is really painful? Or is that shingles? Don't you get piles from not eating vitamins?

So I call him back. No, piles of CDs all over the place . . . downloading to the evil Ipod. Oh, much better and managable, the piles of CDs. Plus he has much less than four hundred of them.

I'm simply ignoring the fact that it is Valentine's Day. So there, Hallmark.