Year Nine: I am a changed woman

So much that, in the space of 11 months, I have switched:

A city: because Seattle is being taken over by East Indians, becoming less attractive by the day

A career: because an immigrant can go only thus far avoiding her fate – of earning her living in the medical field [albeit after graduating with a 4.0 GPA, bitches!]

And a relationship status: because you gotta either shit or get off the pot, as they say, after 5 years of dating the same man.

[I chose to shit, because good pots are hard to come by]

But not all news is good news. And not all change is for the better. For circumstances has seen to it that I become estranged from the only family I have in America, trudge through the day without my best friend the radio, [what is there to listen to but how Obama’s legacy is being dismantled every day?] and not be able to take a stroll without being seen and commented upon by either my co-workers or Troy’s.

All this may or may not have contributed to my alcohol abuse problem, my 3+ years insomnia, and the fact that I am unwilling to have a mammogram done despite the Planned Parenthood lady finding a potentially cancerous lump in my right breast [although I never cease to tell “my” patients how early diagnosis is important for good prognosis; and my dead-beat insurance can probably ill-afford the treatment].

But is that what sometimes keeps me up half a night, twiddling my thumb like a timid character in a P.G. Wodehouse novel? No, sir, what keeps me up half the night twiddling my thumb is the fear that something bad would happen to Dr. Abiy Ahmed and all would be lost back home; the way America became undone because Democrats decided to write off the 2016 Election as their last love-letter to the Clintons.

እግዚአብሔር ኢትዮጵያን ይጠብቅ!!