My husband's immune system does its job very quietly, but mine likes to make a lot of noise about it.
Picture us in adjacent besieged castles. My soldiers are groaning: We don't want to boil the oil! It's so hard to haul the oil up all those stairs! Have you smelled boiling oil? Wait! Maybe we could pour room-temperature oil on the attackers' heads and they'd say thanks for the conditioning treatment; we'll head on home now!
Elwood's soldiers have their oil nice and hot already, ready to send it bucketing down on the marauders' heads.
My archers are slouching next to the balistrariae, grousing about how hard it is to see through those teeny little slits, and who even hired this fletcher anyway because it looks like these arrows were made by a couple of trained seals.
Elwood's guys are waiting silently in position, ready to loose a hail of arrows on the invaders.
This afternoon we got our COVID boosters and flu shots. It's only been four hours but my left arm is complaining loudly. "What plans do have for the weekend?" asked the pharmacy tech who administered the shots. "Based on my reactions to the last few COVID shots," I told her, 'I'm guessing my weekend will involve a lot of reading on the couch."
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