Bad Romance

Oh,, I wish I knew how to quit you.
I really, really do.
But, I … can’t.
No joke — just last week, I instructed my smart, software-engineer-to-be daughter to block the site from all my devices. Just cut me off. It sucks my valuable time and if human brains are already made up of 60 percent fat, mine has got to be around 80 percent flab after reading all that nonsense about Miley Cyrus’s marriage breaking up after, like, two hours, and some singer I’ve barely heard of posted a picture of himself shirtless eating an avocado and it broke the internet. I do not need to know stuff like this. is the source of all my irrational medical fears.
I have this mental medical Rolodex tucked behind my gray-matter muffin top filled with freakish medical conditions like transverse myelitis and Guillain-Barre Syndrome. I try to memorize the symptoms in case they pop up in anyone I know.
I have irrational fears of swimming in warm lakes lest I contract necrotizing fasciitis from some antibiotic-resistant bacteria. I worry about bear attacks, shark attacks — and dog licks.
Yes, I recently read about a woman whose dog licked her, next thing ya know, she’s in a  coma and when she wakes up, she discovers all her limbs had been amputated because our canine friends apparently have this bacteria in their mouths which is normally not a big deal but if a dog directly licks a cut or sore and the bacteria get into your system, it can be very, very bad.
It’s exhausting to be this on guard.
So, I just wasn’t going to look any more because ignorance is bliss and results in a healthier, less wary relationship with your pets.
But then, today, when I was getting one last hit before swearing to never, ever click on again, I come across these happy lil’ nuggets… Screen Shot 2019-09-05 at 7.29.39 AM.pngScreen Shot 2019-09-05 at 7.27.55 AM.png
I didn’t even have to click on the stories, just the headlines and photos alone were enough to spark pure joy.
How can I just throw that all away?
Maybe I’ll quit tomorrow…

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