Good news: I’m basically healthy!*
Better news: now that I’m not wasting away in my deathbed, Husband and I are finally able to have some of those deep, meaningful conversations I know you’ve been missing.
JTLJR: (presents shitty offer from EvilCorp)
HIM: Okay, I have some very specific questions about how parts A and B would work (listed) and also would like to know why they’re still not addressing point Z. Can you communicate that to them?
JTLJR: Those are great questions! I think we should meet in person** to discuss that… I’ve got lots of free time this week, let me know what works for you.
ME: (to Husband) We are not driving all the way down there and spending a bloody fortune we don’t have just to sit in a room and agree that nobody in that room knows the answer to those questions. What the hell are we paying them for?
HIM: I think “I have these time slots” (so many, basically all day except lunch four days this week) is lawyer code for “I’m short on billable hours and need you to help pad my timecard.”
I’m cranky, is my point.
But! Look here! We’ve sorted one of life’s great mysteries and you know I wrote it all down just for you.
ME: I’m feeling much more energetic and better overall, but I’m still a little not-good-breathe…y. Umm… yeah. We’ll pretend that’s a word.
HIM: Instead of wheezy?
ME: No, because it’s not wheezing. It’s more mucus-clotty.
HIM: Ah, the worst dwarf.
ME: (nods miserably)
HIM: You ever think that the dwarves are just named for their diagnoses and Doc is treating them?
ME: (defensively) Hey, Happy is medicated!
HIM: So’s Dopey. His dosage is just a little off.
ME: So Bashful has Social Anxiety Disorder.
HIM: (nods) Yep.
ME: What’s Grumpy’s deal?
ME: No, that’s Sleepy.
HIM: Thought he was narcoleptic?
ME: (shakes head) No, he’s not actually falling asleep suddenly, he just wants to be left alone to take a nap.
HIM: (doubtful) Maybe…
ME: Sure, always tired… Chronic Fatigue Syndrome!
HIM: That makes more sense.
ME: And Sneezy had those allergies… Did you know that Disney named the dwarves?
HIM: What, like Walt himself?
ME: Well I don’t know about the man himself, though given his control issues I wouldn’t be surprised. No, I just meant that in the original story they weren’t named.
HIM: Yeah, I knew that. I’d like to get a DSM from that year and see what the first six entries are.
ME: Probably more like he just said “Let’s make one of ‘em happy, one of ‘em grumpy, one of ‘em kind of dopey… then maybe there’s a tired one, a sick one—we’ll call him Sneezy—a shy one, aaaand…. how many is that? Fuck it, call the last one Doc and put him in charge of the rest.”
HIM: Yeah, why was their Doctor the foreman? What kind of mine was it?
* If you don’t count how often I’m still coughing or blowing my nose… which you shouldn’t. Weirdo.
** Meeting a lawyer face-to-face basically costs the same as uncut diamonds or (I’ve heard) an actual human. Please don’t test this by buying a human: it’s illegal and immoral and dangerous. Plus, it’s really expensive, so you won’t be able to afford a lawyer after.