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Give me a perfect world
You would think if they could put a man on the moon, they could cure the stupid common cold.
If they could make a fridge spit out cute little oblong ice cubes, why can’t they get rid of the invisible jackbooted terrorists stomping inside my head?
If they could make dolls talk, cars zoom, and microwave ovens zap food from frozen to steaming hot in seconds, why, oh why, can’t they make a cold medicine that actually works and does not make me look like a drunk homeless fish?
Seriously, if a leprechaun dropped a bag of gold on my front yard, I would not be able to get up to collect it.
This is not the “taking a sickie’’ kind of cold. I like work. Actually. I get there early and leave late. I I like making things happen, solving problems, impressing people with my own amazing efficiency. Just last week I stuck my hand in a paper shredder to remove mangled sheets of sensitive documents which had become stuck in the teeth of the monster. I expect to receive the Employee of the Month award for that heroic effort.
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