at the waiting room of the bloodlab the other morning, there was a man sitting across from me. he was probably at least 65, and was wearing a checkered beret and a bowtie. his distinguished brows were knitted over what must have been a very sensational article in sister to sister
. i would have given my left leg for a camera. the man next to him puzzled over a blank space on his questionnaire for a few minutes before looking up plaintively at nobody in particular and stating, "i don't even know how to spell
constipated." a woman with bright red shoes carried a local interest magazine around to most of the waiting room, informing them indignantly that, "this magazine is four months old! this magazine! is! four! months! old! it isn't even current!" i just sat with my hands folded and tried not to make any sudden movements.