The Nurse Was Cute, Too.

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Christmas Eve, the seven of us were playing Scattergories in Sam’s hospital room.

Sam — who is about our age, and who pumps iron (minus the illegal enhancing you-name-it) like Arnold Schwarzenegger did when he was about our age — got several feet of intestine cut out of him last week. And, from the infection and the surgery, he looks about as beat up as Arnold Schwarzenegger did at the end of Terminator 2 (I embellish, a bit).

Anyway, Scattergories.

The letter was: I.
Two minutes (or however not-enough time it was) to come up with all these things that had to begin with the letter: I.

Number seven on the list: “Things you replace.”
I wrote down, and even spelled it right, “Eyeglasses.”

Because I really need to replace my own pair.

What I had done, I did not realize, not until JC asked what I put down for number seven; and not until the word came out of my mouth, “Eyeglasses,” and everyone started splitting their guts. Yes, even Sam had to hold (what was left of) his in.

You know how red I can get. With “Eyeglasses,” I got even redder.

But, I suppose, it was one of those had-to-be-there sort of moments.

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