OK, so I am George Costanza...with Hair

First of all, my wallet looks like this (and pretty please tell me you remember that Seinfeld episode).I have so many receipts crammed in there. Of course, they are all ragged and different sizes and just a general mess. Why on earth do I retain on my person information as valuable as what I spent at Subway three weeks ago? or better yet, how many Starbucks receipts that I have accumulated...because I would rather just remain in denial about that one.

Even though I haven't watched Seinfeld in years, those episodes are firmly ingrained in my memory. Oddly, I don't remember the plots of anything else and sometimes I even forget movies that I've watched; Seinfeld...I remember. I am hoping that y'all remember this one too. It's the one about George being insulted by someone and his resulting torment at not offering any suitable comeback. He eventually boards a plane, tracks down his insulter in a meeting, storms in, and delivers his perfect comeback to a very bewildered guy in a business suit.

Well, I rarely (make that never) write about work, but here I go...a work post. Have you ever been in a situation in which someone blurted out an answer that you knew like the back of your hand and because of your delay, it appeared that you didn't know the answer at all? And then (drumroll) did you somehow in the craziness of the moment neglect to correct this situation? Did said situation then continue to irritate your psyche?

I am experiencing all manner of grouchiness at myself...why did I fail to mention that I knew the exact answer, why do I allow this minutiae to annoy me so? I think it is because somehow I fear that I may have appeared un-knowledgeable or un-able to help a patient. THAT drives me crazy. Naturally, Mr. Lipstick and Mommy Lipstick have heard the story. Apparently, I needed additional therapy and had to retreat to Lipstick-land. Thank you, dear friends, for listening.