My illness recedes like the tide, slowly and almost imperceptibly. Bit by hard-won bit, I am eking out moments of health in my days. Just in time, too. Husband-cat gave me a deadline of seven days of plague then to the doctor I would go. Not normally doc-phobic, I insisted each day of severity was different enough to be "progress" but he was unimpressed. Silly partners and their "standards".
While bedridden I semiconsciously watched the 2012 seasons of Being Human -- American version of a British show where a werewolf, ghost and vampire become flatmates and there's lots of death and angst -- and Teen Wolf -- a bloody, sexy series remake of a silly '80s Michael J. Fox movie I remember fondly. I may or may not be proud of my viewing habits, but I have to share the sheer nakedness of Teen Wolf's opening credits this season. Despite watching a whole season in a matter of days, I never skipped over this. I love that the male leads spend truly excessive amounts of time shirtless. They know their demographic. Also, no one looked remotely like that in my high school.
I swear Netflix pays for itself every time I get sick.
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