The truth of the matter is, I hate forms. And sometimes, said disdain and my bottomless supply of sass catches up with me.
In the last little while, I have had to fill out more than my fair share of redundant paperwork, and it tends to leave me a little bit on the cranky side. And when the Baroness gets cranky, rest assured that something's got to give.
When I had to fill out forms for my cancer surgery, at the end of all the usual medical history rigamarole (which asked both if I had bridgework in my mouth or could I be pregnant - an interesting combination perhaps only seen during last call in some finer Boise Idaho drinking establishments), there was a question that just begged for a sassy answer.
The question: "Is there anything else that we should know about you?"
My answer: "I like fuzzy kittens, rainbows, walks in the rain, I'm a Scorpio (but don't hold it against me), and I aspire to be Canada's answer to Imelda Marcos (shoes only!)".
Not only did I feel better for being sassy, I felt like somehow, in my small little way, I was giving the pointer finger to The Man (kind of like the middle finger, but more gracious with better spelling...). I also used it as a kind of sick litmus test, to see if anyone actually went to the trouble of reading all the way to the end of the form. And if they did, were they simply skimming or were they actually paying attention?
Imagine my surprise when, splayed on an operating table, Dean Martin crooning in the background - just about to have the sleepy-time gas administered - my surgeon leaned over to me, eyes looking very serious over his surgical mask, only to say,
"Fuzzy kittens, huh?"
Need I say it? I love him.
Today, I got caught again. I had filled out these forms in a bit of a hurry, and I do recall that no where near enough caffeine was involved in the informative process .
So imagine my surprise, yet again, when meeting my new doctor for the first time, he shakes my hand in introduction, but does not let go. Instead, he leads me into his office of nurses.
"Ladies", he says, "I am not sure if you are all aware, but Mrs. von Bloggenschtern here is the first Domestic Goddess I have ever had the pleasure of having for a patient".
Somedays, I just love my life.
In the last little while, I have had to fill out more than my fair share of redundant paperwork, and it tends to leave me a little bit on the cranky side. And when the Baroness gets cranky, rest assured that something's got to give.
When I had to fill out forms for my cancer surgery, at the end of all the usual medical history rigamarole (which asked both if I had bridgework in my mouth or could I be pregnant - an interesting combination perhaps only seen during last call in some finer Boise Idaho drinking establishments), there was a question that just begged for a sassy answer.
The question: "Is there anything else that we should know about you?"
My answer: "I like fuzzy kittens, rainbows, walks in the rain, I'm a Scorpio (but don't hold it against me), and I aspire to be Canada's answer to Imelda Marcos (shoes only!)".
Not only did I feel better for being sassy, I felt like somehow, in my small little way, I was giving the pointer finger to The Man (kind of like the middle finger, but more gracious with better spelling...). I also used it as a kind of sick litmus test, to see if anyone actually went to the trouble of reading all the way to the end of the form. And if they did, were they simply skimming or were they actually paying attention?
Imagine my surprise when, splayed on an operating table, Dean Martin crooning in the background - just about to have the sleepy-time gas administered - my surgeon leaned over to me, eyes looking very serious over his surgical mask, only to say,
"Fuzzy kittens, huh?"
Need I say it? I love him.
Today, I got caught again. I had filled out these forms in a bit of a hurry, and I do recall that no where near enough caffeine was involved in the informative process .
So imagine my surprise, yet again, when meeting my new doctor for the first time, he shakes my hand in introduction, but does not let go. Instead, he leads me into his office of nurses.
"Ladies", he says, "I am not sure if you are all aware, but Mrs. von Bloggenschtern here is the first Domestic Goddess I have ever had the pleasure of having for a patient".
Somedays, I just love my life.
