bury my heart at wounded ear

Evening at the Chateau de Healy.
The atmosphere is pervaded with a sense of tragedy.
It's like something out of War And Peace.
I have an ear ache.
"Let's go out to Pauline's for a visit," I suggest to the aimiable Mammy.
"Why Pauline's?" wondereth she.
"I just feel like discussing the finer points of feminism and the rights of women," answereth me.
"No really why?" presses the Mammy.
"Well it'll help take my mind off the ear ache," sez me.
"Tell me the truth," persisteth the Mammy.
"Okay," sez me, "I hear a girl from Finland is staying with Pauline as a house guest. I thought I might check her out for my files. Visiting Pauline is the perfect excuse."
"But why do you need me?" expostulateth the Mammy. "I'm not your crutch."
"Lil old pal," sez me, "you are my crutch. You are that most rare type of crutch. A crutch that talks back at me."
And so to Pauline's.