There is a lady that I know, we'll call her Patty, that my friend has affectionately nick-named The Town Crier. She is a sweet lady, but she just doesn't know when to stop talking. She also doesn't recognize that every single bit of information in her head doesn't necessary need to be told to the whole of mankind.
Guess who I *almost* ran in to at my fertility clinic the other day?
The Town Crier!
I was standing in the sort-of lobby where they do the blood draws, waiting for my turn to be stabbed with a needle (again). I hear this voice that sounds familiar... too familiar. I turn around and there is Patty and her daughter standing down the hall outside one of the exam rooms. Of all people... why her? I so did not want to explain anything to her, or even worse have her telling everyone I know that I was there and making up her own version of why.
So, I did what any normal, well-adjusted human being would do.
I hid from her!
I quickly ducked around the corner right as my flabotomist was coming to get me.
Flabotomist: Is everything okay?
Me (jumping because she scared me): Yes! I'm just hiding from someone I know. Sorry.
Flabotomist: That's okay... it happens all the time! (...really?)
After she draws my blood, I wait for a minute, then go to check out. Guess who's now standing at the check out counter? Yep, The Town Crier! So, once again, I duck around a corner until they are finished.
I get checked out and begin to walk out to the parking lot when I notice that I have somehow managed to park right next to Town Crier and TC Junior. And they are taking 3 years to get in their car. And then they sit in their car for 5 more years. And then they finally drive away at approximately one mile per hour.
But I don't think they ever saw me. Whew.
For those of you that are wondering, I was having blood drawn to see if our last cycle of treatments worked. It didn't.