It was the next day at work when the doctor called to see
how things had turned out that Iridella had to deal with the fact that she really didn't know.
She dutifully reported that she'd made contact and had made an appearance and apparently not offended anyone.
She did have a question, though. She asked the doctor what happened after the baby was born.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you. You move on to the Widowed Mum Club, which is a different bailiwick altogether. They have this thing about finding each other dates and babysitters and good dental care."
"Good dental care?"
"Yeah, they have this thing about pregnancy and/or nursing adversely affecting the strength of your teeth. They are also way into exercise and eating right and playing the right movies for your sprout so that they are diverted long enough for you to take a shower, yet they are actually educated just a leetle beet while being entertained."
"I've always thought so. But it could be worse. You could be around a bunch of depressed pediatricians."
"How bad is that?"
"Well, my first ex-lover said that she had to deal with their twisted optimism, that no matter how deformed or ill a child was, there was some force in the universe that had brought them to that doctor to help make their days on the planet more pleasant. If they were unable to make the child more comfortable, then they believed that by encouraging everyone, the child, the parents, themselves, to smile in the face of adversity, then they were somehow contributing to the karma of the... and bullocks like that."
"Yuck. And when they were drunk?"
"Funny you should ask that. They talk about sex and how people should talk more about sex and do it less, instead of the other way around. When they are really klonked, the pedis believe with all their hearts that children conceived under the circumstances of a mutual orgasm are happier and more intelligent all around."
"And how is that depressing?"
"None of them have the courage to ask any of their patients if this is true..."
Iridella almost dropped her phone handset. She laughed for a good two minutes. When she was under control, she clasped the phone hand thingie back to her ear and found that the doctor had rung off.
Doctors thinking about sex was a pretty yucky thing for her. She had no problem with a mechanic thinking about racing while examining her car, but the idea of her OB/GYN wondering about her personal techniques while... Ick.
Yet, as a copy writer for a feminine hygiene product company, she often giggled to herself at the fact that the women who read her ads with any attention would be saying to themselves,"What the hell does any of this bumpf have anything to do with shoving an absorbant thingie in my vacancy?"
Then she thought about butchers imagining people eating their products... overlaying the ruminations of the ruminants they slaughtered with the masticatorial techniques of the gourmands who wolfed the steaks and sausages and stews down, without a thought of the person envisioning their crude oral mashings...
And she was back laughing again, tears, rolling down her eyes...
Another box of tissues sailed over the partition. It knocked her decaff cup onto her keyboard. She laughed harder.
Then she remembered she'd forgotten to have her oil changed.
She stopped laughing and continued crying.
She'd also forgotten to clean out her purse.
Now she was hysterical, sobbing...
She still had a tub of ice cream in the freezer at home.
She thought about knocking off and going to eat it.
Then she thought about Ibat's socks, how he'd always left them everywhere, new, used, and unmatched. She would still find one or two whenever she tried to clean the place. She had one in her purse. She got it and clutched it to her face and all she smelled was her favorite fabric softener. It was so nice to have dependable consistencies in a world full of surprises.
Suddenly, she felt aroused. She hadn't felt that in months.
As she sopped up her keyboard, she squirmed in her wool skirt.
Her whole body tingled and she felt a blush rising in her cheeks.
Then her eyes felt tiny and her sinuses began to thrum and she got a terrible headache. Her hands felt chilly while the back of her neck was very hot. Her scalp itched. There was a metallic taste in her mouth and she could hear cinnamon and rosehip tea...
She slid from her chair and took a nap on the floor protector.
Conversations About This Entry
There are no Conversations for this Entry
Infinite Improbability Drive
Written and Edited by
h2g2 is created by h2g2's users, who are members of the public. The views expressed are theirs and unless specifically stated are not those of the Not Panicking Ltd. Unlike Edited Entries, Entries have not been checked by an Editor. If you consider any Entry to be in breach of the site's House Rules, please register a complaint. For any other comments, please visit the Feedback page.