You can't -handle- the truth!
"How are you doing?" he asked me as we stood at the sinks washing our hands.
"Fine, thanks. Yourself?" I replied.
"Just fine," he said, already half way out the door.
I wonder what he'd done if I'd really told him how I was doing.
"Well, I seemed to have pulled a muscle in my back mowing the lawn making it hard to breathe sometimes, I've got this dull throb behind my left eye that just started a bit ago and I think my arches are threatening to fall again. Other than that, I can't complain too loudly. You?"
"Fine, thanks. Yourself?" I replied.
"Just fine," he said, already half way out the door.
I wonder what he'd done if I'd really told him how I was doing.
"Well, I seemed to have pulled a muscle in my back mowing the lawn making it hard to breathe sometimes, I've got this dull throb behind my left eye that just started a bit ago and I think my arches are threatening to fall again. Other than that, I can't complain too loudly. You?"