I went back to work today. Mostly so I could rant to people about quinine, which one of Karen's doctor's prescribed to help control muscle spasms. Which it has been doing since like forever, whenever British expats were sitting around the Raffles drinking gin and tonic through their walrus mustaches complaining about the natives and which when I was a kid, they put in pop. You could mix a drink, and fight malaria at the same time. But regulators, working in the dim light trickling into their offices in Big Pharma's pockets have changed the rules on quinine, and now, a compound that children used to be able to put on their corn flakes if they ran out of milk, has a $95 co-pay. That's a $95 co-pay!
When I got home a took a test of tone deafness and musical memory. I was in the low normal range. They stopped just short of saying, "Your hearing's not too good, plus, we think you might be retarded. Does your mom know you're playing on her computer?"