Well, five days at the Circus AKA New England Baptist Hospital. I was a petulant little Circus Goer. Oh, yes, I started out excited to see the Clowns, the high wire acts, the Bare-back Rider, but they must have put something in my cotton candy because I thought the costumes were a bit tawdry, the facilities run down, the animals too thin and shy and instead of being funny, the Clowns seemed, well, confused.
Every night there was a vivid film of my job with famous floral designers helping me out with an impossible deadline. A novel addition to any Circus! Why was I so crabby? The clowns arrived twice a day, but they argued about the skits: get into the little car? get out of the little car? Walk toward the audience? away from the audience? wear the funny white stockings? take off the funny white stockings? Why are they arguing at the Circus? Shouldn't they have rehearsed?
While I'm pretty sure the Cotton Candy was the culprit, and not the Circus/Hospital, I'm glad to say I'm happy to be home. Oh, and why did I go there? To have my knee replaced. There's no photo for that, but plenty of metaphors which are inappropriate for this blog!