The hypochondriac in me is convinced I am dying.
My occasional dull heart pain that became an occasional sharp pain is now a constant in-between-dull-and-sharp pain. Like a pulled muscle, but just over my heart.
It's been suggested that it's heartburn, gas pains, lung infection, inflamation of the chest wall, a heart attack, and my imagination.
Irma keeps telling me to go to a doctor, but I am a wimp and have also mostly-successfully convinced myself that merely complaining will help it go away.
I told Irma that I bequeath my Got Milk? ad collection to her. Instead of the gratitute one would expect after the announcement of a bequeathment (bequeathity, bequeathityimentness) I received mocking for having a Got Milk? ad collection. I take it back! NO SOUP FOR YOU!