In the last two weeks, every person in my life has been sick with something (mental health diagnoses notwithstanding). I’ve personally come down with a GI bug, my son has had it twice now (my poor area rugs…) and my husband is both getting over and coming down with a new cold/plague/misery in microbiotic form.
I think this pretty much happens every spring, or whatever the weather goes all sideways, and you’d think that humanity would have figured out by now how to deal with all this, aside from large doses of antihistamines and chicken soup. But no, instead of a cure for the common cold, the science has decided that the collective misery of humanity can take a back seat so we can find a cure for the scourge of “low T.”
I realize the money to be made is in the cold medicines themselves, and there probably wouldn’t be much of a profit margin left if we just figured out, that combining applesauce, chicken stock and live yeast cultures would be the cure (actual science not conducted here, folks, just a hunch). But the genius therein, is that even if we wanted to raise a ruckus about it, we’re too wiped out with our yucky cold symptoms to do much about it. And by the time we’ve recovered and our netflix queue is that much lighter, we forget, and get back to the mountain of work that was left behind while we took a sick day or three.