Recognizes the mutant

My parents used to give my eldest brother stuffed turtles for birthdays and Christmas, because he loved them. He and I differ greatly in this regard.

I do not like turtles. Under duress, they hide their funny little heads, refusing to confront that which frightens them. Perhaps they find comfort in not seeing things.

The thing with turtles is, when one winds up on its back, its awkward little legs waving in helpless, uncertain desperation, one doesn't know whether to feel pity or amusement. Maybe that's why I dislike them so much.

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Either I'm letting New York turn me into less nice of a person, or the longer I live, the more accurately I see the world around me. I'm not so happy with either possibility.

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I got my X-rays today. And I opted not to get the inhaler my doctor suggested, for it was ridiculously expensive, even with my insurance, which is allegedly some of the best around these parts. I didn't get the first antibiotic she recommended, either, for it too was off the charts. Whoever says our health care system is just fine needs to get an MRI and a CT scan -- for two obvious reasons.