Doctor, doctor!

You know how in kindergarten when there's always that one kid who has to throw up during the national anthem, opting to cry helplessly rather than make a desperate dash to the toilet, that would have saved everyone a whiff of putrid kiddy breakfast ...

Or that weirdo perched silently on the floor next to his/her classmates, ne'er uttering a word till King Pong hits and Teacher makes everyone stand up, only to discover -lo and behold- a perfect little turd smeared on the music room carpet ...

There is, indeed, drama in real life even at that tender age.

Well, tonight I regress and join (note: NOT re-join) the less-than-illustrious ranks of juvenile classroom wimps. Taken hostage by an affliction that is dramatic as it is inconvenient. Whining and moaning as I bury my face in heaps of already speckled tissues, suffering inconsolably from what Ste has curtly declared a garden variety nosebleed. Right before he trotted off to bed.

Is there no compassion in this world?!!