“I don’t like you anymore. Don’t take this personally.” Can you imagine getting an e-mail like that? Then I read about that lady in Minnesota.
A lady in Minnesota was planning to go to a wedding. Her babysitter didn’t come through, and she couldn’t go. The bride and groom sent her a $75 bill because the lady had sent in an RSVP, and the bride and groom bought the meals based on that.
That gave me a fantastic idea. I was wondering what to do with that e-mail, “I don’t like you anymore. Don’t take this personally.” I’ll send a bill to my ex-friend.
I mean you get an e-mail like that, and it produces all sorts of problems. First I had to go see a psychologist, and because I’ve been somewhat normal up to now, I had never been to a psychologist and didn’t know one. I looked in the yellow pages.
When I told the psychologist about the e-mail I received, she said she wasn’t sure she could help me, that she was more concerned with my behavioral patterns, and she thought my problem was deep-seated with a more mental cause. She suggested I see a psychiatrist. She gave me the name of one. She also gave me a bill for $150.00
I went to see the psychiatrist, and he started in my childhood. I told him I didn’t know the person who sent me the e-mail when I was a child, and I had actually only known her about six months. I asked him if we couldn’t pick up then, instead of including all the movies, good and bad, I had seen played out as life in front of me. No, no, no.
I still had the anxiety about the e-mail when the sessions were completed. About the only thing I got out of it was the fact that I might need a new pair of glasses because it was obvious to the psychiatrist that I had not looked deep enough into the soul of the person sending the e-mail. I also got a bill for $650.
They don’t list eye doctors as eye doctors in the yellow pages. They’re ophthalmologists. I couldn’t spell ophthalmologist, which created some more anxiety. I called the library and asked them how to spell ophthalmologist. They told me. I thanked them. They didn’t send me a bill.
I told the ophthalmologist I needed a pair of glasses where I could look into someone’s soul. The ophthalmologist suggested I see a psychiatrist. I told him I already had, and the psychiatrist was the one who suggested I needed a pair of glasses where I could look into someone’s soul. He fitted me with a new pair of glasses, but I still couldn’t see into a person’s soul. He also saw fit to send me a bill for $350.00.
Going to all of these doctors and sitting around for so long in their offices made my rear end sore. I figured I needed to go see somebody. I looked in the yellow pages and found a proctologist’s name. It looked like a man’s name. I got to the office. The proctologist was a lady. Do you know how much anxiety is generated when a man goes to see a lady proctologist? I closed my eyes while she examined me, thinking perhaps it might not be as embarrassing. She said there was some redness, but that was about all she could see. She said my problem might be more deep-seated than I thought, and I should see a urologist. She gave me the name of one and sent me on my way. She also gave me a bill for $150.00.
The urologist did all sorts of examinations. Now I don’t mean to be explicit here, but some of them were not totally pleasant. He finally came up with the idea that if I did not sit down for a while, I should recover. He also came up with a bill for $325.
I had been walking around so long, going to doctors’ offices, parking in their lots and walking, and pacing up and down while I waited to see the doctors that my feet hurt. I thought I needed to see a podiatrist. I could spell that. He said my problem wasn’t all the walking I had done, it was an ingrown toenail. He took care of it with a little round sanding wheel. I walked out of his office a new man. I also walked out of his office with a bill for $95.
So I sent my ex-friend a bill for $1,720.95. I stopped by the grocery store on my way home and bought me a candy bar for ninety-five cents. The e-mail she sent me was so bitter, I had to have something sweet.