One may ponder, upon finding fatty lumps in one's cat's skin, "would it be any good to get that gosh-darned pet insurance I've been hearing so much about?" Of course, one then ponders who decides to write actuarial tables for cats, and who reads them.

This leads one to think "Can I monitor this situation myself? And come to think of it, can I self-medicate for my back pain?"

Following this rabbit trail, one gets the 222s from the medicine chest, heats up some pho, pours a G&T and looks at the pills on the table.

"No! No!" one's intellect cries. "You shouldn't mix alcohol and medication." "Shuddup!" the back responds. "You're not the one in pain!"

The pho tastes great, and one wonders how much one should eat in order to buffer the acetylsalicylic acid in the 222s.

The television might attract one's attention at this point. Which truly is funnier, The Rick Mercer REport, or This Hour Has 22 Minutes? It's a tie, really. Hell, one knows one loved Rick when he was on 22 Minutes; why not follow him to his own show? They run back to back anyway, so no need for one to choose.

One might have a mini food-gasm upon finding a piece of meatball in the pho. Oh joy, oh rapture.

"And really", one asks, "does one really need to let chocolate mousse set for two hours, or can one just dive right in?"

Patience is one's friend.