Jed Wolf

Johnny coats make me feel sorry for myself. I can camp in the woods, be vulnerable in the presence of strangers and cordial while naked at swimming holes but I can’t “make nice” with anesthesiologists. I’m used to dealing with most situations, neighbors, clients and check out lines with the charm and dexterity of an Anole, but hospitals trap me.

I was ashamed at how morose I became before being put under for the ultrasound procedure today, but my mood upon awakening was abominable. The only reason I uttered words in the recovery room was so they might release me. On the way home, Dave asked me if I wanted to stop at a nursery to purchase an overpriced plant and I declined.