Why is it that when you call in sick, nothing ever happens? No exciting drama. No strange happenings. Nothing. You're stuck in bed with a fever and the sniffles, bored out of your mind! Seriously, is it too much to ask for a little excitement!? Can't someone shoot somebody next-door, or light something on fire? Hell, I'll settle for something simple, like a salesman coming to the door, or the cats playing...
But, no. I'm stuck at home, laying on the couch, watching soap operas. SOAP OPERAS! It's so mind-numbingly dull, if it weren't for the searing pain in my throat and the mucus draining from my nostrils, I'd swear my life was over and I was in hell. And I might just be, at that.
Germs are the devil's angels. They are here for no good reason. They don't sustain life, they aren't necessary for any ecosystem to thrive, and they make us miserable. Our arsenal of weapons does little to kill the minions, and a lot to damage our natural defenses. (My immune system is lazy because of all the medicine that was pumped into my body over my lifetime...) Yet, if we allow our natural defenses to take care of the little bastards, we risk becoming more sick, miserably grouchy, and possibly even dying...
Cache 22 at its finest, folks! And so, the only conclusion I can reach is that germs are contracted to Satan himself, and we have all been infected by the devil at some point. Harsh? Yeah, probably, but that's life, right? Meh. Maybe I'll think more clearly when my fever is back below 100 degrees and my lungs aren't being ripped from my chest with every cough...
TBC
