Wash your hands moron

If the world is being dumbed down to mass retardation, seriously, do I have to participate? Do I have to be on the list of people that need to be called on a "sleep in" Saturday morning to be reminded I need a prescription filled? I can tell the bottle is almost empty, any moron can tell when a bottle is almost empty. Gah! Do I really need to be reminded I need to make an eye appointment? I know when I can't see.

And don't get me started on the "swine flu" procedures. It's been drilled into my head since birth to wash my hands. But for some reason the world is compelled to remind me with every turn I make to wash my hands. Signs, signs everywhere signs.

Society, we weren't born yesterday, most of us, can we be treated like we have functioning brain cells? Like adults, perhaps?

Okay, I'm glad I got that off my chest. Now I have to go find my car keys.

My fragile mental state of mind

Leaving the safety of my home, I ventured out into the swine flu riddled world we now live in, only leaving for food, gas and a mocha. Already at risk and in a weakened condition, because I'm pretty sure I have a sinus infection, I did this for my family to survive the weekend. I stocked up on Sponge Bob macaroni and cheese and Pepsi, oh and another bottle of my beloved Nyquil. Not that I've gone through a whole bottle myself, yet, the rest of the family likes to knock themselves out with that stuff when they're sick too.
We're sick but not swine flu sick. I'm sure I have a sinus infection but refuse to go to the doctors and sit in the germ infested waiting room for antibiotics. I suppose I'll have to go to the "black market" for those. Where is the "black market" any way? I need a few things.
Whether I ever leave my house again will be up to how much I let the media scare me and in my fragile mental state, because of the FaceBook addiction and my brain swimming in snot, it may be never.