This morning, I woke up and all was well. My body didn't ache, I wasn't coughing, and my body temperature had lowered to a brisk 98.6 degrees. Then, when I got to work, my nose started running, which is something that it didn't do for the last couple days. So I blew my nose. And blew my nose. And blew my nose. And the pressure built in my sinuses. And everything started to hurt. And the world around me seemed to get colder and colder. I was sick in a way completely unrelated to how I was sick for the last couple days, and ended up going home an hour and a half early, which is something an iron-man like me would never do. Now, I'm back over the 101 degree mark and absolutely miserable. So, in an attempt to ease my misery, I strolled to the kitchen to get some ice cream. As I pulled it out of the freezer, it slipped, and in an ill-fated attempt to keep it off the floor, I ended up slamming the ice cream into my left ball at a high rate of speed.
The world can French-kiss my ass.
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