(2 of 2)
What else? Oh, right. Buy flowers, says the good doctor. Our house is full of plants already--hanging, squatting, dying--but they don't count. Has to be cut flowers, which my wife bought the first week, saying, "I thought you might forget." So this week (which, as I said, is nearly over), I definitely have to get flowers. But what kind? Guys aren't comfortable buying flowers because the women at the florist wear an expression that says, "You must have done something really disgusting, or you wouldn't be here when it's not Mother's Day." More anxiety; my stomach hurts.
That's good, I guess; no pain, no gain. But can I twitch through six more weeks of virtuous nibbling and meditation and moderate behavior? Will enlightenment and serenity finally make clear to me the meaning of "antioxidant"? One thing is sure: only the strong survive.
--By John Skow