Under the weather

Nothing like a cold to sap the physical will to do anything out of you, and yet more often than not your brain is left intact.  Screaming.  Banging against the bars of its cage with a tin cup.

Part of you thinks “I wish I could go hiking or biking today.” And your body goes “Are you nuts?  Get on that sofa and turn on America’s Funniest Home Videos.”  Which, to me, is proof my body hates me and is actively engaged in sabotaging my brain.

After all, it only gets in my body’s way, insisting it do things like exercise, not letting it fill itself with potato chips and sour cream dip.  Yes, my body would be very happy and content if it weren’t for my pesky brain and it’s need for new experiences, creative thought, and long term survival.

I suspect my body’s idea of heaven is me suffering a head trauma which leaves me only capable of feeding itself and staring blankly at the TV… even playing the Xbox would be too active for it’s liking.

Don’t trust your bodies, folks.  They all secretly hate your brains and want them to die.