Tylenol p.m.

I have what my brothers would probably call an irrational fear of acetaminophen. But, sometimes fevers don’t respond to ibuprofen alone, as I’ve discovered in the last couple of days. So, I’ve had to ignore my fear and swallow Tylenol every four to six hours (alternating with Motrin, which causes fluid retention in some people but which doesn’t scare me). While I’m waiting for the drugs to kick in:

Simon appears to like his mommy in a febrile state. I’m like the radiator, only softer and more familiar-smelling!

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I wish I had a robot to feed and pill the little one when I’m sick like this. It’s no fun whatsoever to crawl from beneath the covers and climb down the ladder when the room feels like it’s 12 degrees. Come to think of it, I wish said robot could also fetch Gatorade for me. Yesterday’s trip to the deli was a special kind of hell for Rock and Roll Grammarian. It didn’t help that the deli was packed with roughly 42 screaming children. I’ve said it once, and I will say it again until I die — or until I have children of my own: Please curb your child!

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I miss Texas, and Texans. I spent some time with two tall Southern gentlemen the other night, one from Texas, the other from Tennessee. Both had easy laughs. One, upon giving a stranger directions, told the stranger to take care. He’s been in the northeast for several years now and still hasn’t forgotten his manners, which I find heartening. Some people lose them within a matter of months. It’s sort of easy to see how this can happen in a city like New York.

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I mourn the quiet death of the comma, which writers are using less and less often to separate compound sentences. It’s just one extra keystroke, guys!

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Also, it’s “likely to” and “probably will” but not “likely will.” That’s how I learned it, at any rate.

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The other night in a cab I saw this clip about the correlation between palm temperature and sleep. Apparently people’s hands get warmer before they nod off, so some sleep therapists are using biofeedback to teach their patients how to will their extremities to warm up. I wonder why they don’t just wear gloves instead?

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Speaking of warming up, I’m no longer chilly, so I’m going back to bed. Peace out, yo.

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