Quick Conversation with Mr. Aloha

 So my husband and I recently had a conversation. This is not strange as we frequently talk to each other, mostly because we don't talk to anyone else.  I had my yearly physical and all the bloodwork that goes with being over forty (ahem) and having had gestational diabetes and pretty much being a depressed writer type. Everything came back fine, except my Vitamin D was low. They wanted another test so I looked at the request and then threw it away. Then they sent me a reminder to get the blood test already. Here's the conversation with my husband, Mr. Aloha.  ME: So I'm fine. Blood work thingies are all good.  MR. ALOHA: Okay. That's good right?  ME: Well, they say my vitamin D is low or something. I don't even know what that is. Isn't it in cereal or something?  MR. ALOHA: That's the sunshine vitamin. Most people are fine because they sit outside for ten minutes and they get the vitamin. I'm not surprised yours is low.  ME: What are you saying? Are you saying I never go outside?  MR. ALOHA: Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying.  ME: I go outside. I do. I go out all the time. I went outside two days ago.  MR. ALOHA: Really?  ME: Okay. It was a few days ago. And it was at night. I don't like the sun. It burns. It's hot. It makes me squint. I pretty much hate summer. I want to kick summer in the gonads. The GONADS.  MR. ALOHA: Yeah. That's what I'm saying. You're low on Vitamin D.  ME: Is that important? Like should I get retested and then get one of those shots in the butt? Isn't that a bunch of granola hooey? Like, you should take this here vitamin and all your worries will melt away. That's not how it works. Therapy is how that works, and I don't have time for that either.   MR. ALOHA: I think it means you're low on Vitamin D. Leave the house. Or get a shot. Stop being a pussy.     Okay....he didn't actually call me a pussy but that seemed like the natural end line for the scene.  The point is...  Actually, there's no point really.  Except maybe I do need to leave the house on occasion. And take care of my health or whatever. And maybe like, I don't know, interact with actual living, breathing people right away. And I will. In October. October is sunny, right? 

So my husband and I recently had a conversation. This is not strange as we frequently talk to each other, mostly because we don't talk to anyone else.

I had my yearly physical and all the bloodwork that goes with being over forty (ahem) and having had gestational diabetes and pretty much being a depressed writer type. Everything came back fine, except my Vitamin D was low. They wanted another test so I looked at the request and then threw it away. Then they sent me a reminder to get the blood test already. Here's the conversation with my husband, Mr. Aloha.

ME: So I'm fine. Blood work thingies are all good.

MR. ALOHA: Okay. That's good right?

ME: Well, they say my vitamin D is low or something. I don't even know what that is. Isn't it in cereal or something?

MR. ALOHA: That's the sunshine vitamin. Most people are fine because they sit outside for ten minutes and they get the vitamin. I'm not surprised yours is low.

ME: What are you saying? Are you saying I never go outside?

MR. ALOHA: Yes. Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying.

ME: I go outside. I do. I go out all the time. I went outside two days ago.

MR. ALOHA: Really?

ME: Okay. It was a few days ago. And it was at night. I don't like the sun. It burns. It's hot. It makes me squint. I pretty much hate summer. I want to kick summer in the gonads. The GONADS.

MR. ALOHA: Yeah. That's what I'm saying. You're low on Vitamin D.

ME: Is that important? Like should I get retested and then get one of those shots in the butt? Isn't that a bunch of granola hooey? Like, you should take this here vitamin and all your worries will melt away. That's not how it works. Therapy is how that works, and I don't have time for that either. 

MR. ALOHA: I think it means you're low on Vitamin D. Leave the house. Or get a shot. Stop being a pussy.

 

Okay....he didn't actually call me a pussy but that seemed like the natural end line for the scene.

The point is...

Actually, there's no point really.

Except maybe I do need to leave the house on occasion. And take care of my health or whatever. And maybe like, I don't know, interact with actual living, breathing people right away. And I will. In October. October is sunny, right?