Call me squeamish, but I hate hospitals.
There's something about the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to be free.
Holy crap! Am I mistaking one thing for another?
Well, same difference.
I remember, just after my beloved Christian and I were married, I had to have an operation.
Christian, always the practical one, asked the surgeon how long it would be after my surgery before we could have sex again.
"You know, Mr. Grey," the surgeon told him, "you're the first person to ever ask me that about a tonsillectomy."
