House, Hypochondria, and Shampoo

Being unemployed is kind of like being deaf or blind. Suddenly, it's like your other senses have become heightened, but rather than suddenly being able to see through walls or figure out the last person to touch something based on taste alone, it's more like you're able to notice odd irregularities within the mundane, and then, as an additional super power, you're able to dwell on them for far too long and put way too much thought into them. Here are some examples:

1. The USA television network had a House marathon the other day. They also had one last weekend. They may or may not have had one sometime during the week. At what point do you, as a network, just sort of throw in the towel and stop referring to them as "House marathons" and just admit that you show a lot of episodes of House? I looked online and found that this week they will be showing 18 episodes of House. There is one block of five episodes, but I don't think that equals a marathon. That's 18 episodes, 18 hour-long episodes, and no marathon. What's the point of even saying that they're having House marathons at this point? They've basically decided that House is the new Law & Order, and following the Law & Order trend, they're showing it nearly non-stop. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for it, I just want them to acknowledge what they're doing.

2. Watching so much House has adversely affected me recently. Last week, I was sick for two days. My main symptoms were headache and fever. This freaked me out. I was sure that there was something far more sinister lurking beneath the surface and that I was on the brink of death, the unknowing host to some ultra-rare strain of death-inducing illness. As I rested, shivering with my eyes closed, my mind raced through a mental checklist of body parts, checking each one for symptoms. I was demonstrating all of the hypochondriacal sufferings of a first year med student, but without any of the medical knowledge that would allow for an actual self diagnosis, leaving me painfully aware of my impending death, but painfully unaware of its source or how to stop it. I got better, but the worry will not fully dissipate until I have health insurance and can get an actual check up. Then my mind will finally be set at ease.

3. As I took a shower the other day, I grew nostalgic as I looked at my nearly empty shampoo bottle. When I first moved into the city, my mom allowed me to take with me a brand new, economy size bottle of Herbal Essences shampoo. Two years later, it's finally on its last leg, just as Tara and I are gearing up to finally move out. Somehow, fate timed it perfectly. The rarity of my showers, combined with the small amount of shampoo I use on my nearly hairless scalp, has perfectly offset the overuse imposed upon the bottle by long haired guests. And now, on the cusp of a brand new frontier, the bottle is letting go, allowing this little bird to spread his wings and take flight independently. Nothing gold can stay, and no bottle of shampoo can last forever.