And no, I know what you’re thinking: the white spot near my clavicle is not any sticky excretion or manna from heaven (read: bird droppings). It’s toothpaste.
Looking at it, I now realize one of the walls of our backyard could have been used for target practice.
If only my metabolism could be as precise in achieving my ideal body shape. I know, I know. I don’t go to the gym enough and I eat too much McDonald’s. But that’s another story.
Not that I obsess about body shape (good health would be more ideal). Right now, taking care of my patient is more important.
So I hope you pardon both my paunch and my state of disarray.
As with our backyard, things are still covered in rubble, dust, and ashes.
Not to mention, stray paint markings.
We are all after all, an Easter people. Regardless of religion.