I think it’s great that you coming to visit on Wednesday. I know you think you’re coming for Passover, but before we have any seder, we have one with little matter to discuss —
You see, on Friday, I went to my very first therapy session. The doctor seemed like a nice enough guy, although all his Peruvian and Asian vases gave off a pretentious vibe. I would have felt more at ease chatting with him if his office was decorated like a Denny’s coffee shop.
The doctor asked me several questions while reading from a little red book and making notes on his computer.
“Do you ever feel anxious?” he asked.
“Do you wake up in the middle of the night, feeling anxious?”
“Do you ever wake up wanting to harm yourself?”
“No. Uh, unless you’re using that as a euphemism for “playing with yourself?””
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Do you feel depressed?”
“No. In general.”
“Do you sometimes not want to get out of bed in the morning?”
“That’s depression?! I thought that was normal?”
After forty five minutes, he told me that I should see someone else, mostly because he was a psychiatrist who dealt primarily in medications, while what I really needed was THERAPY. And, yes, he did say “really needed.” He offered me some Prozac and said I should look for a good cognitive behaviorist therapist.
“So, no Thai massage therapists?” I asked.
Therapy = not funny.
Oh, and what does he think is wrong with me? Well, he didn’t give me a definitive diagnosis, but he thinks I have a “dependent personality structure,” or as Sophia immediately called it – Mama’s Boy Ailment (M.B.A.)
In other words, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, MOM!
So, Mom, I thought of buying the Streit’s matzo for the seder before you show up, but it just tastes so much better when YOU buy it. See you soon…
Sophia’s funny tagline of the day:
“Finally, I got a husband with an M.B.A!”
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