Holy Hitch-hiking Hookers!  No really.  Yesterday I passed two hookers hitch-hiking.  It was raining hard and their fake tans were probably running.  I was returning from a doctor's visit in Carmagnola, a town about half an hour from here where for some reason I had to go to see this guy about insides falling out.  (Don't ask).  The appointment only lasted 30 minutes but it took most of the day.  I left work 45 minutes before my appointment to give myself time to get there and find parking.  Then I had to find his office in the ancient maze they call the hospital.  The building is very cool with inner courtyards and towers and arches.  I don't know if it was originally built as a hospital but I doubt it.  Too regal.  The receptionist directed me to a door where someone then directed me to another, then another til I ended up back in reception, having done a complete circle.  This time the receptionist WALKED me down to the correct area and pointed me to the correct desk.  The receptionist at this desk asked to see my receipt for the payment of my "ticket".  (Sort of a copay.)  I didn't have my receipt because the machine one uses to make these payments asked for an amount and I didn't know what to pay until I'd had my appointment.  Heavy sigh on her part.  So she told me what to pay, some amount with 27 cents or something ridiculous, and then I had to go back to the original entrance, and my friend the first receptionist, and pay my "ticket".  Back at the doctor's office I was ushered in to find him texting someone and his assistant, who types up his diagnosis for him, on the phone.  They finally got around to me, I had my humiliating check-up, (no details), and then he told me that I will need to have 8 sessions of therapy to learn how to do certain exercises to hold my insides in but that these sessions may not start til next autumn.  Or next week.  He couldn't be sure.  Aging sucks.
 xxoo me