Well, it’s a sinus infection, I guess. I guess, or better yet, I guess.
Me: . . . nothing I’ve used seems to help so I thought it might be a sinus infection.
HMO “doctor”: (looks in my ears) Hmm, well, it certainly might be! How about some antibiotics?
“Certainly might be.” Not “definitely is.” Just an educated guess! Just eight years of med school so I can work at a walk-in clinic letting people diagnose their own tumors and green sneezes! Yo ho ho!
Also, I just finished that Tom Perrotta novel about stay-at-home parents and their sad fantasies, and I came away with the overwhelming feeling that I’d read some sort of pre-novelization. Like the whole time he was writing the author knew in the back of his mind that he’d be turning this into a screenplay eventually, so why really work on fleshing out the minor characters? Let them be types, it’ll be easier to cast that way.
But Perrotta also comes with mad Ivy League cred, so maybe I’ll shelve the idea that he’s incapable of greater depth and nourish the hope that he’s actually some sort of literary master baker who’s intentionally created this featherlight confection, and it’s not his fault if I wanted a Thanksgiving dinner but got a meringue cookie instead.
I enjoyed parts of it, just like I enjoyed substantially fewer parts of the Ann Leary book, but I am still looking for the great parenting novel. If anyone has any recommendations, please share.