Thinking about Della Reese, because I was touched by an angel

Now that I'm back in the world of full-time employment with benefits after eight years as a contractor, I've been catching up on those things I used to take for granted: Doctor visits.

Today, I went to a general practitioner for the first time in five years since my beloved GP, Dr. Feelgood ("Cramps? Here's a scrip for muscle relaxers"), closed her practice.

Seems I've developed old-man-level high cholesterol.

PA: So you need to stop smoking, drinking and eating fatty food and start exercising.

Me: No s@$t. Now give me my prescription.

(I did not actually say that. And she would not give me a magic bullet.)

I left in a bad mood, imagining how tomorrow I will completely change my life, and how freaking boring that life would be without delicious takeout food.

A little old lady was waiting for the elevator. She was four-foot nothing and her fancy pocketbook was nearly as big as her. When the elevator arrived, I, being the sophisticated urbanite who's worked in high-rises, noticed that it had an up arrow, meaning it was going to visit the fourth and top floor before going back down. I stood back as she got on, and she put her hand on the side of the door to stop it from shutting and called to me, "Going down, honey?"

I wanted to say, "It's not going down, ma'am," but I, in an unsnarky moment, went and joined her in the elevator.

As the elevator travelled to the fourth floor, I realized how freaking hot it was in there, further fueling my internal foulness.

"Gracious," my fellow rider said, "they must not have turned on the air conditioner in here."

I freaking hate talking about the heat. "Hot enough for ya?" could be the question that drives me over the edge. The police report accompanying my eventual assault charge will contain witness accounts of me screaming "No! It is not hot enough for me! I am only happy when the asphalt melts my tires!"

"Yes ma'am," my breeding led me to respond. "It's too hot in here."

""Wouldn't it be something if we got trapped in here? Just us two white-haired ladies." *

It was perfect timing. Right after she said it, the elevator opened to the lobby. She stepped out and said, "You have a great day, honey."

"You have a better one, ma'am!" I called after her as she walked out, toward the hot parking lot, wishing I could go wherever she was going and be best friends forever.

*My hair is currently bleached platinum. I pray it goes snow white someday and I can rock it like her or my great-aunt Louise, our family’s original rebel. :)