I watch the wind blow the red, white and blue British flags hung on the rooftop of the pub across the street as I sit in the waiting room of the clinic at work. It's been humid and cloudy here for a week now and it feels like ages since I've been dry. My skin feels wet, the clothes on my back and in my dresser (read: my floor), the couch, the kitchen, everything. I'm hoping for the sun to come out soon, the flapping fabric of Her Majesty to blow away the muggyness.
It's been about 20 minutes since I handed my lab order to the man who came into the room and introduced himself in a mumbling I couldn't understand. Apparently you can't just bring in an order anymore, they need to call your doctor for a diagnosis code before they can even draw your blood.
Ooh, I heard a chart slipped into the rack on the door - maybe he's coming back!
