04
Mar
08

I’m sick. In the head.

With a cold.

Being sick is dangerous to my bank account. Not if I have to go to the doctor (I  have a savings account for copays and scrips I drop about $20 into a month).  No, because my body says, “We need to attack! Array for battle! Bring out the +5 Cloak of Healing! And the Cheetos, because we cannot have a faux D&D metaphor without Cheetos and Chinese food takeout.”

 And my brain says, “No! We will make nutritious, wholesome, calorie-dense energyriffic foods in the kitchen to help fend off the invaders!”

To which my body replies, “Hah, like to see you get from the couch to the kitchen when I’m attempting to hork up a lung. Call the restaurant next door, they deliver! *AND* you have a coupon!”

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