I am quite ashamed to admit that the following actual dialogue took place in my doctor’s office this morning.  It is important to note that Dr. Mike has been my physician for almost six years — so, he knows me pretty well.  And, apparently, feels that he is my very own personal date police.

Ahem.  Read on, if you care dare.

Dr. Mike:  You’re sick.  Still.

Me:  I know.  I need some medicine.

Dr. Mike:  Yes, but you also need some rest.  Did you stay home last week like I told you?

Me:  (Silence.)

Dr. Mike:  That’s exactly what I thought.  Well, you’ve caught yourself quite the virus young lady.  You’re not doing anything for the next three days.

Me:  So, I can go back to work tomorrow?

Dr. Mike:  No.  Let someone else run Sprinkle.

Me:  It’s called Sparkle. 

Dr. Mike:  Oh, yeah.  Sparkle.

(Note: This happens more often than you’d believe.  In fact, one of our local middle school principals still calls the program Sprinkle.  I know we have some silly names for our programs, but people?  Sprinkle?  Really?)

Me:  Well, I have somewhere I have to be tonight.

Dr. Mike:  You’re not going.

Me:  Actually, I think I am.

Dr. Mike:  What is it that’s so important?  Are you going on a date or something?  (Insert chuckle.)

Me:  (Awkward silence.)

Dr. Mike:  Seriously?  Were you really going on a date?  (Uncontrollable laughter.)  (From him.)  (Not me.)

Me:  Yes.  And I’m still going.

Dr. Mike:  No, no you’re not.

Me:  What is WRONG with you?  Do you not understand what I’m trying to tell you?  This is a date.  A real, live date.

Dr. Mike:  (More laughter.)

Me:  If I cancel it, he may never ask me out again!

Dr. Mike:  Well, if you don’t cancel it and stay at home for the next few days, I can pretty much assure you that you’ll be in the hospital by Thursday.

Me:  Really?

Dr. Mike:  Yep.  And I don’t think you want to be there.

Me:  Depends.  If I agree to let you put me in the hospital, can I go on the date tonight?

Dr. Mike:  No.

Me:  (Angry stare.)

And so.  No little third grade girls this afternoon; roommate is filling in for me.  On a positive note, if she doesn’t make it out alive, I can have her collection of headbands. 

And, no getting on top of stuff at the office.  No productive Monday.  Or Tuesday or Wednesday for that matter.

And, worst of all, no first date with That Boy tonight.  After he hears what my voice sounds like on the voicemail I left letting him know I couldn’t make it, I’m fairly sure he’ll start to think he was asking out a deep-voiced man and decide not to call again.

Well, hate to sign off so quickly but I’ve got hours worth of bad daytime television to watch while wondering if I had made the right decision to wear my hair curly for tonight’s now non-existent date.  Should I have worn it straight?  Is God trying to tell me something?  More importantly, can I get a do-over?  I’ll choose straight this time, I promise!

Just give a girl her date back, for goodness sakes.