I went for my very first grown-up physical today. After finding that a recommended physician doesn’t accept [My employer] insurance, I found the office by doing a location-based search; the closest medical practice to me is 0.1 mile from my cube. Walking around the corner to “Boro Medical Practice PC” this morning, my nerves were somewhat on edge, due to Rubber Glove Prostate Anxiety. My concern was only increased when I noticed that the medical office is located right above the headquarters of Local 223, the Toy and Novelty Workers Union. As I took the elevator up, I was envisioning all sorts of unfortunate accidents involving the accidental juxtaposition of latex exam gloves and giant plastic clown shoes. But everything turned out fine. In fact, there was no prostate-poking involved at all, which kind of turned out to be an anticlimax after all the anticipatory embarassment I’ve been saving up for months. I didn’t want to say anything to Doctor Bharara, however, who turned out to be a matter-of-fact young woman with a precise Indian accent. I’ll just start my anticipatory embarrasment for next time.