Never let a good infirmity go to waste. That's my new personal motto, edging out ever-so-slightly the old favorite: people piss me off.
Yes, each day dawns with the promise of yet another fly in the ointment of Val's physical well-being. Not only am I dealing with a common cold and a purple flapping pinky-toe, I am harboring a joint mouse, a throbbing tooth, and a raging case of insomnia. I think they are all related in some twisted kind of The House That Jack Built way.
If I didn't have the Typhoid Hick cold virus, I wouldn't have stumbled about the bathroom closet, bashing my pinky-toe on the door frame. And if I didn't have a sore pinky-toe, I would have walked normally up the slight incline of the school parking lot, rather than favoring the flopping pinky-toe and bending my knee unnaturally so that an innocuous flake of loose cartilage wedged itself into my right knee joint. If I hadn't obsessed over that tricked-out knee joint locking at random moments in my walks down the hall, I wouldn't have clenched my jaw from the stress of remaining upright and ambulatory, irritating the tooth nerve already tweaked by the sinus congestion of the cold. If my tooth hadn't been throbbing every time I applied my head to my pillow, I would have been able to wheeze and cough up mucus like a champ, then drift off to dreamland in an exhausted stupor. If I hadn't been so sleep-deprived that I nodded off at the keyboard, I could have taken more time to craft a witty laundry list of my symptoms.
If You Give a Val a Virus. Watch for it on the new release charts.