At the best of times, I am a hypochondriac. At the worst of times, I cannot recline in bed because of the throbbing, stabbing, fizzing pain in my ear, and then I think I am probably about to die. So I’m not even going to pretend that this comic isn’t 100% autobiographical.

On the plus side, all the emergency room doctors and nurses were charmed by the way I continued to crack jokes while nearly sobbing with pain. And on the DOUBLE PLUS side they gave me lidocaine ear drops which made it possible for me to sleep a few hours when I got home. (I am also on antibiotics, and have an ENT appointment.)

Illnesses that come upon me or worsen at night have a narcotic effect; I want to bathe in them, let their worst wash right over me. I look up diagnoses on the internet and try to figure out whether I am actively (?) passing out. I am not a treat to deal with. And I cannot believe I am alone in this – it’s harder to muddle through when there is nothing of the ordinary world awake to distract you.

I guess maybe next time I should try television. If it can get me to run on a treadmill, maybe it can distract me from the belief that I’ve immaculately conceived some light ebola.

ANYWAY. Here are a couple of niceties for your reading/viewing pleasure:

– My review of Marie-Helene Bertino’s debut novel Two a.m. at The Cat’s Pajamas. Do you want to know what I thought about it? Well, I have conveniently assembled my thoughts for you over at The Millions.

– This is a video of the world’s most charming fox playing with a stolen dog toy, as viewed through the window by the aggrieved dog. You’re welcome.