I recently found out I have a Whitford bladder. Who’dve thunk that a name change would allow for the possibility of the adoption of your spouse’s physical familial characteristics?
Why is the size of my bladder the primary focus of today’s post, you ask? I had to go to the island for an ultrasound last week to make sure my girlie bits were okay. Although I’m still waiting for absolute confirmation, the tech told me that she didn’t see anything that would keep her up at night. She then remarked that she was impressed with my ability to keep vast quantities of urine in check. Or something like that.
The upswing of needing to go away for medical stuff is that it gave me the opportunity to visit Mel and Gary, who I haven’t seen for a really long time. It was fun, as always.
Speaking of adopting nonsensical physical characteristics, is it just us, or is Ted starting to look like Don King in his old age?
You be the judge.