Sick Day

I was sick today. The usual, for me . . . run-down tired, capable of short bursts of work in front of a computer between delirious naps. Sickness is good for dispelling existential angst, at least in the short term. No longer do thoughts of one’s greater purpose dog your existence; you just keep waiting to stop hurting long enough to contemplate anything else. At least this time my voice sounded terrible, so I didn’t have to work all that hard to convince customers that they should leave me alone.

We had planned to go down to the bank to take care of some thorny business: converting a health savings account from one account to another, and getting a signature guarantee on some automated transfers to some of our investments. Since I wasn’t getting much of anything else done, I decided to go ahead with it. As we waded through forms and bureaucratic morass, amid my mental fog, I thought, “This must be what Medicare Part D must be like.”