A warning to my tonsils and to my body in general:

Don't you dare act up on me in the next two weeks.  I realize, Body, that you have been especially gracious (especially after this past summer's bout with mono) in remaining well while every other person I knew, even the normally healthy boyfriend, fell victim to some bug or another during the winter months.  I realize how exceptionally kind it was of you to give me this winter off--you refused to succumb to any 72-, 48-, or even 24-hour cold.  But Body, you must understand that the next two weeks are going to be some of the most important in my life thus far.  You need to know that whatever you want to throw at me after April 17th, I will accept, but before then, I cannot deal with any form of illness.  I'm telling you this in the hopes that you will speak to Tonsils, who are beginning to do that funny but disgusting thing they did when I had mono.  I realize how unlikely it is to get mono twice--although the recent pain in my abdomen isn't doing much to quell my fears--but if you could just have a word with Tonsils.  Warn them gently at first, but if they continue to act up, please assure them that I will not hesitate to find a doctor to tear those bad boys out (I hear the rule is having tonsillitis five times in a year = tonsillectomy; I've had it only three times, but I can swing something).  If they don't believe you, advise that they speak with Retinal Tears.  Those bitches never saw it coming.

Sincerely,
Joie, the more abstract counterpart to your physical existence