Apparently I have mice developing in my elbows. I was as surprised as anybody, I can tell you. How they got there was only half the problem, or less, because my concern is how to get them out. Traveling on the metro I've noticed people staring at me. Something's got to be done and soon. Feeding them is a nightmare. After all, they do have a point, begging for food. Not much to be done, so I feed them in the most excruciatingly agonizing way that I would describe to you except that it's really quite disgusting.
Mice in your elbows prevent you from engaging in most activities that involve heavy lifting. This may be the main, perhaps even the only, advantage. I have a note from the doctor which I can whip out at any moment. Any moment when I am called upon to engage in heavy lifting, I can whip out my doctor's note and with that I am excused. I can sit back and watch others engage in heavy lifting. The only problem is that the muscles involved in the activity of whipping out a doctor's note are pretty much the same muscles required when one engages in heavy lifting. Therefore, thus far, I've not really whipped out my doctor's note that often.
Sometimes people ask me, so how are those mice in your elbows? How are they doing? They ask this question with a tone of concern, but really, underneath it all, I detect a note of derision. This irritates the hell out of me. Do I snigger at them because they've got hamsters growing out of their ears? Do I smirk, the way they do at me, at the kittens that they pretend aren't really wrapped around their heads? No, those really aren't hats, believe me. Those really aren't hats.