29th September, 2022.
I’ve officially got bad news … and good news: and possibly a joke.
Possibly.
I had a podiatrists appointment, yesterday: to see if I qualify for routine podiatric check-ups.
The bad news?
I don’t qualify for the regular check-ups.
The good news?
I don’t qualify for regular check-ups … because my feet are too healthy!
~≈🦶≈~
The part that struck me as funny?
Was that the podiatrist who did the exam used a tuning fork — a full on musician’s tuning fork, in C — to check my feet.
If a patient can feel when it’s vibrating, and not vibrating?
It means the nerves in the feet are working.
My nerves are.
When I got home, though, I realised I missed a fantastic opportunity to ask if my feet were flat.
Flat, get it? Flat … ?
Never mind!
~≈🦶≈~
You’ve heard of earworms, haven’t you … ? Songs that — for whatever reason — start playing their way through you head.
I’ve had a few, over the years.
Now … I know an earworm is a song … but what on Earth do you call the textual equivalent?
A word, phrase or title, that does the same thing?
I have no idea.
But … ?
I’ve got the name of Britain’s worst movie in my head, waving at me.
Sex Lives of the Potato Men.
Why?
Why?
I have no idea!
But the phrase ‘Sex Lives of the Potato Men’ has been sitting in my head all morning: and I really have no idea why!
~≈🥔≈~
