I made myself get out of my flat.
My “I’m one home manicure away from becoming Howard Hughes” jokes are becoming more of a manifestation than casual satire.
Also, I’m not saying my cardiologist yelled at me the other day, but there were some stern words about dropping a few kilos.
“Wow, did you just call me fat?” I asked.
“No, but it’s important for a man your age to get a little more exercise than you do.”
“Great. So now I’m fat, old, and lazy. Muchas gracias, Dr. Miguel. Que amable eres.”
He started giggling behind his mask, “No, no, no.”