In sickness

We don't take vows when we take up a job. No one promises to tax their body beyond what is reasonable in order to receive money for food and shelter and transportation (the latterest of which is only necessary for said job), do they?

It's not like an ailing corporation is going to coddle you when it crashes and burns.

At any rate, I didn't take any such vows. The elements of the employment "contract" are vague. "May be terminated at any time without notice," seems to appear in that fine print at the bottom of every application, though custom and courtesy dictate that if you are the one leaving, you should politely give them a fortnight to adjust.

At the moment, I'm trying to determine why three kinds of decongestants have no pull on what is happening in my head. I can barely hear, but at least unlike last night, I am not crying in "there's an icepick in my ear" pain. I don't think I have had this feeling for 20 years.

Drugs are annoying. Sickness is it's own drug, but the bottom line is a lack of coherent thought.

Yesterday, one of my brakes make a squishing noise when I sat in the car (door open, one ear functioning) and, yeah, that's brake fluid spontaneously coming out, saying, "wow, you're heavy." Call me underadapted for life on this planet, but I am unable to deal with two kinds of clogging/draining/need doctor or mechanic issues at the same time. Especially (sentence fragments rock) when I have to leave town Friday for some work-related thing I could care less about, and it's all because my fellow humans haven't figured out how to transport ourselves around like they do in Star Trek.