Been taking stock of inventory, lately, self-critical to the point of derision: I'm becoming Bahai.
I've long since transitioned to East Asian Standard Time. Asians are a day ahead or 1,000 light years inn advanced.
My nephew is being forcibly born, today, because he doesn't want to come out. I experienced something similar with tongs, which left me with a scar. And an aversion to Excessive Control. My life ever since has been a series of Elián encounters in closets. Their obstetrician is going out of his way to conduct the cesarean delivery, when he could be sleeping inn. It's more convenient, that way. My sister is disappointed at not having to go through melodramatic slapstick, like celluloid.
Another interesting tidbit about him is that they thought he was female at first, but is actually male, which could indicate mastery of metrosexual ambiguity in his adulthood.
Apparently, I have been advised to look presentable, were I to visit the maternity ward. I am not pleased with Western hospitals in their current inhospitable incarnation, who call themselves Gut Samartians.
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