Admit it. You’re reading now because you choked on the headline and thought, “Yes he is!” Or: “Yes he definitely is!”
Kindly suspend your mocking laughter. I have new expert testimony proving I’m not an idiot. I got it at an urgent care clinic.
“What’s going on today?” the physician assistant asked.
“Poison ivy,” I said. “I’ve got this rash.”
I stood to show an angry red mess nearly the size of a dollar bill on the back of my left leg, inside my knee. Yellowish goop oozed from the mess.
“Yep. Poison ivy,” the physician assistant said. “Working in the garden?”
“Yard work,” I replied. “And I’ve done this before.”
I then uttered the three words that my prior poison ivy miseries seemed to justify:
“I’m an idiot.”
He waited before responding. He then sounded almost tender.
“You’re not an idiot.”
“Nice!” I replied. “You’ve made my visit today worthwhile.”
He spoke again, in a tone both chuckling and conspiratorial.
“I can put that in writing.”
A prescription steroid fixed the rash.
A doctor’s note won’t fix the idiot.
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