No More Fish

Both my arms hurt. And I took the whole day off for this damn medical "procedure" and then the teachers got half the day off anyhow. Evidently they went in, heard a speaker and then were sent home. So I basically wasted a sick day. And my veins are hard to stick. At least to "Sharon" the CMA that was sticking me.

And if one more person says "you should throw him back". Throw him back into what? It's not like I have caught ANYONE in the first place. And I can't really look anymore (I've now been called a "serial dater") because of all this medical stuff.

Quite frankly, not looking is a relief. It is. But there will be no "throwing back". And I'm putting a stop to the men as fish analogy. They aren't anything like fish . . . and dating? It's not anything like fishing. Both activities are what you make of them for sure. I would have to decide that I like fishing, much like dating.

But no more "plenty of . . . ", no more "throwing back . . . " and certainly no "bait" . . . although I did get the greatest date sweater at Nordstrom. Very Jenny Cleeves.

And my arms still hurt.