Dear Immune System,
Hello. My name is Lauren, and though you might not know me, you’re probably familiar with my work. See, when you drop the ball, I am the one who gets to pick up the pieces. I try to diagnose symptoms, figure out which medicine might work, and bring juice to your Boss (unless I get sidetracked*).
You, Immune System, are pretty much worthless. I would also like to point out that this is the third birthday in a row that you have ruined for your Boss, and I would like to speak to your supervisor about it.
Disgruntledly,
Lauren
Happy Birthday, Lloyd. Enjoy your cold.
*True story. He was up in bed and I asked him what he needed. He said some juice would be nice. I went downstairs, but took along a load of laundry, put it in the washer, folded some towels, noticed the litter needed scooping, scooped, then decided to just change out the litter since it had never been done, then swept the floor, then took the trash out, and then the trash to the curb, then came inside and lo and behold! There was Lloyd sitting at the table drinking…. a glass of juice.
Oops.