I'm married to a doctor named Mark.
It's always good that I'm married to Mark*. It's sometimes awkward that I'm married to a doctor. Because I'm arrogant enough to argue with him.
Take today. (Please. Ba-BOOM!) I've had a stupid sore throat and chills for about a week and have spent the entire time in my jammies curled up in a fetal position.
I'm mighty sick of it all, so earlier today I held my little mirror in front of my face, cranked my mouth open as far as it would go & shined a light into the deep recesses of my pain. It was red and I was glad. Glad, I tell ya. Because redness means it's not "all in your head."
Then Mark goes and looks and tells me it's not inflamed. WHAT? He goes on to say that I probably have allergies. Well, I won't even GO into that part - Okay, I will...I've had allergies forever, and this ain't no allergy. But, just to be fair, I squirted the requisite nose spray into my nostrils.
Because Mark doesn't always love my joke,
"And you call yourself a doctor..."
*hi honey. I love you forever.
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