When I say “funny,” I mean “funny like evil zombie clowns of doom”
I hate hospitals. Hospitals smell funny. I hate anything that smells funny like a hospital smells funny, because it’ll remind of hospitals that smell funny WHICH I HATE.
Armed with this knowledge, last week I had to do this pre-check in-check in thing with my doctor. Apparently going in for surgery is kind of like getting on an airplane, because you have to check in first, go through security, and then check in all over again. (And airplanes smell funny too! CONNECTION? Oh wait, no.)
At this preflight check-in the nurse gave me a little bag of goodies, which included weird yellow shrinkwrapped blocks: apparently they don’t trust my hygiene, so I have to use their soap night-before and morning-of. 15 minutes of sterile yellow sudsy scrubbing. (Indecently, blame this post on inhaling too many soap bubbles).
SO. My point is this: I hate hospitals because they funny, but now I can’t sleep because I smell funny too.
