It Only Hurts When I Breathe

The Lord & Master’s ongoing medical crises continue. This morning’s periodontist visit turned out to be surgery, not teeth cleaning. He stumbled home all mealy-mouthed and swollen. I ran the errand of mercy to the Kaiser pharmacy to fetch the antibiotics and Vicodin. It’s one thing that children were running amok coughing upon every available surface in the waiting area, but I’m amazed adults still don’t know to direct their germ laden effluvia into their elbows, not directly at other human beings. Come on, people. Sassafrass taught us to do this when she learned it in preschool.

If I don’t catch Bubonic Plague from my fellow species, there’s always a chance that the mosquito buzzing around in my car will infect me with some rampant flesh eating virus instead. Yeah, San Francisco’s temperate climate delivers bug bites year round. Itching and scratching, they’re not just for summer anymore!

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