Why I Need Health Insurance

Oh werd?
So, everyone in the North End of Bloomfield ("Upper" Bloomfield) has the flu. I know this because every door I knock on is answered by a person in a bathrobe. Old women. Old men. Young moms. Bloomfield dudes with hairy chests and gold chains poking out of their robes. Kids. It's the whole fucking town.
So, I think I should get some sort of hazard pay. They all touch my pen... and my clipboard.... and the money.... Ew! And you can't make flu-people stand in the cold, so you have to invite yourself inside, and then you are trapped in a house of flu! So, if I make it to conference and my crosstrain next week flu-free, it'll be a miracle.
But that's not why I need health insurance.
I need health insurance due to my amazing ability to get into dumb accidents. Like yesterday. So, there's this pot at my house with no handle.... but it was the only one clean... so rather than wash a *new* pot, I decided to handle this one with an oven mitt on. I was pretty sure this would be uber-safe because this mitt was (yes, "was") really long, so I wouldn't have to worry about burning my elbow.... or my shoulder... or my ear... Anyhoo, it turns out (and this seems like a design flaw) that oven mitts are highly flamable. The mitt caught fire (really fast too) , and I couldn't take it off with my ungloved hand because, well, it was on fire, and I couldn't shake it off my arm because it went up to my ear. So, I doused my whole arm in the sink.
I'm fine. The oven mitt is all fucked up, though. I hope I get my insurance card soon...