oh you decrepit, soul you!

Sitting in the doctor's waiting room always makes me feel better about myself. Even if I'm deathly ill, vomiting my insides out I always think, "It could be worse, I could be that guy... (Insert unfortunate sucker here)" and it always helps. I don't know whether or not that makes me a bad person. But I do know that it makes my day a nun's whistle better. At least I'm not that guy sitting over there hacking up his lungs on the floor, dying of lung cancer. Or that guy over there fiddling his thumbs with gloom in his eyes, waiting to hear that his only son, whom he had dreams of helping become a world series all-star has just been diagnosed with epilepsy, at least I'm not that child, the dream killer himself who was diagnosed. At least I'm not the receptionist who after working a 10 hour day goes home to a TV dinner and her abusive boyfriend. Or that other woman, who has an obviously bad flare-up of herpes circling her hooker red lipstick stained lips. Of course I make assumptions about the other patients oh so horrible lives, but in my mind their fates are sealed exactly how I imagine them. I in no way pity these characters I meet in my head around the waiting room, they are only there to boast and serve my slowly dying ego. I have often heard that waiting rooms are the eyes to hell laced with germy water fountains and year old golf magazines, but when I am feeling blue, a doctor's waiting room is an uplifting mentally self-gratifying nirvana.