Sympathy hemorrhoids

The clock is ticking. We are down to two months and counting in the baby lottery. With only two months remaining, that means that the missus is uncomfortable. She's feeling the baby's hiccups. She's feeling and sometimes seeing movement. It also means that a good husband feels at least some sympathy towards her discomfort.

Sure, I rub her mangled back from time to time and make supper one or two extra times per week outside my allotted number of times (we alternate cooking every other meal). I grab her a glass of lemonade if I'm roaming through the house. I even do most of the laundry.

But there are some pains I don't understand and can't fix. I can still crack my old lady's back but with areas protruding, belly down on the floor isn't exactly an option. I'm sure, too, that with increased growth in the belly area, things will reposition themselves. That's where the hemorrhoids come in.

I'm sure it's only a matter of time before she sends me off to the nearest drug store in search of an ass donut. That won't be an embarrassing quest at all.

"Can I help you find something?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for an ass donut. Do you have anything in blue?"

The thing is, I'm one step ahead there. No, I haven't taken an pre-emptive strike and purchased a blue ass donut. Maybe it was from eating a 3 lb. block of cheese in a mere 36 hours. Maybe all that whole grain bread got its revenge on me. Maybe a constant diet of red meat isn't the wisest decision.

Whatever the cause, the result was pre-emptive sympathy hemorrhoids.

Yes women of the world, I know your pain.

From pain, though, comes pleasure and pleasure comes from MinnPics. It's chock full of grea tphotos from around Minnesota and it's updated daily!