Said the Preacher in Ecclesiastes.
All is vanity.
That's a bit of how I feel today. The other bit is enjoying a nice murder mystery, and soon, a 100 calorie ice cream sandwich. Placebo? you say. Well, it's not Blue Bell or Breyer's, I admit, but it'll do.
Wait! you say. Aren't you at work?
No. I'm at home waiting for plastic surgery to be done.
Plastic surgery! you say. Don't you think plastic surgery is a terrible practice except in case of people who need some reconstruction after tragedy?
Yes, but someone needs to remove the gnome from my back.
Gnome? you say.
Yes. Apparently a gnome has been following me around for a week, randomly sticking needle nosed pliers in my lower back, squeezing nerve bundles, twisting the spine, or jabbing the area I'm going to call the "Bermuda triangle" between my lower back, my hip, and my butt.
Obviously, the solution is a gnomectomy. I wonder what the doctor will say tomorrow when I tell him.